


Eastern Homecomings

by Sarcasmcat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:03:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 48,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcasmcat/pseuds/Sarcasmcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an unprecedented Goblin attack on the Shire, Bilbo finds himself whisked back to Erebor with his son he never wanted Thorin to know about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here, we are. I'm hoping to update this every Sunday but I'm not going to make any promises as I'm working and going back to school. I hope everyone enjoys this.

The air is comfortably warm and Bilbo takes a deep breath. He longs for his pipe but it is inside on the mantle, untouched since he realized he was pregnant. It would be safe outside to smoke, his smoke rings rising upwards, away from Frodo who lay swaddled in his blankets and basket at his feet. He didn’t move though; content to watch the stars and lights of the surrounding houses.

The stars overhead are different than the ones that he’d watched over Erebor, sitting outside with Thorin and the others after Smaug had been defeated. It seemed like days they’d camped outside, the dragon stench overpowering, making it impossible to stay inside for long. Kíli and Fíli had told him outrageous stories about the stars, stories that had had the entire company laughing and even Thorin had cracked a smile at his nephews’ antics. 

That had been before he’d realized he was pregnant with the child of the newly crowned King under the Mountain, when the thought of staying at Erebor had been a good one. Until he’d woken up, nauseous, day after day, waving away Thorin’s palpable concern.

When he’d been forced to say goodbye to the Dwarves he’d come to see as family, and the one he’d fallen in love with it had felt like he would never make it beyond Erebor's front gate but he'd forced himself out, barely resisting the urge to look back. Thorin had just reclaimed his mountain and he didn’t need a half-breed child running wild in the halls to get in the way of a marriage that would secure the line of Durin beyond just Fíli and Kíli.

Frodo mewls, breaking him from his reverie. Leaning down he smiles at his son. “Time for dinner I think.”

Scooping up the small bundle Bilbo retreats inside, locking the door as he does so. He settles Frodo into a sling across his chest before heading out through the side door to the small garden and more recently the small pen with a sweet nanny goat and her kid. Picking up the pail from the small chest outside the door he enters the pen, scratching the goat’s ear as she presses close.

The kid is asleep, a brown and white spot of fluff in the straw. Setting down the stool Bilbo carefully moves the sling to his back before sitting down, hands going to the goat’s teats. This isn’t something he ever thought he’d be doing, milking a goat with his child across his back. But then, ever since Gandalf showed up on his doorstep that one day over a year ago, his life hasn’t been the same. 

No other Hobbit has faced trolls and giant spiders, goblins and dragons, or spent long days and weeks in the company of Dwarves, helping them reclaim their home. And no other has fallen in love with a Dwarven prince and born his son.

Once the pail is full Bilbo scratches at the nanny’s ears and she bleats before settling in the hay near her kid.

Frodo is fussing against his back and Bilbo carefully fills one of the delicate glass bottles Gandalf had brought him from Rivendell not long after he’d returned to the Shire. He fastens the nipple over the top and moves to the dining room. He perches on the stool, the same one Thorin had once sat on as they had discussed Erebor and brings Frodo around to his chest.

A plump hand waves at him and Frodo’s face is scrunched up and red, like he can’t decide if he wants to cry or not. He gently eases the nipple between tiny lips and Frodo immediately relaxes, drawing on the bottle with great gusto. Closing his eyes he relaxes, the sound of Frodo’s sucking echoing through Bag End. 

Once Frodo finishes Bilbo changes him and carries him to his room, settling him in the crib near the head of his bed. It was a beautiful thing, dark wood carved with plants and animals along the railings and legs, a gift from his family. With the rumour of fairy blood on the Took side of the family no one had looked askance when he’d returned home, belly swollen and when Frodo had been born, there had been nothing but support. 

The Sackville-Baggins had been blissfully absent except for one appearance, when they’d tried to get a peek at Frodo only to be chased off. The local goodwives have taken them under their wings, popping in and out to drop off food and run errands for him, sharing their experiences with their own children and Bilbo loves it all.

A day never passes that he doesn’t miss the Dwarves but at the same time he would never trade what he has now for anything.

With Frodo asleep Bilbo returns to the kitchen for a last cup of tea and a small seedcake. Sitting in the kitchen he sips at his tea and can’t help but smile at the cake on the plate in front of him. Short of the fire behind him it’s a beautiful night just like the one the Dwarves had invaded his home and turned his life upside down and now he can’t eat the cakes without thinking about Dwalin.

Washing the plate and cup Bilbo sets them next to the sink on the towel to dry. Banking the fire for the night he blew out the single taper on the table, making note to pick up several more when he goes to the market in the morning. He pads back to his bedroom and quickly changes into his nightshirt before slipping under the sheet and light blanket.

Bilbo tucks an arm under his pillow and closes his eyes.

\-----

By some miracle Bilbo wakes naturally, rather than by Frodo’s crying. Rubbing at his eyes he slides from the bed and crosses to the crib. Frodo is awake but staring at the ceiling and his fist is shiny with saliva from where’s he’s been chewing on it. He smiles and scoops him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Must be time for breakfast, if you’re snacking on your fingers.”

Frodo burbles and presses his sticky hand to Bilbo’s cheek. Bilbo smiles and captures the tiny hand in his, keeping hold of it.

It doesn’t take long to go through their morning routine, Bilbo getting Frodo fed and changed with a minimum amount of fuss. It takes a little longer for him to get ready as he has to keep an eye on Frodo who keeps making attempts to get out of his crib. 

With Frodo in a sling across his back Bilbo steps out of Bag End. It’s already warm despite the earliness of the morning and Bilbo’s glad he’s not putting off going to the market until later like he usually would. He feels fingers pluck at the edge of his waistcoat and he reaches back to gently jiggle Frodo’s foot through the fabric. Frodo giggles and Bilbo smiles as he makes his way out of the gate and down the path towards the market. 

His shopping list is relatively short for a change. He needs more candles and a fish and if he can find something appropriate, another toy for Frodo. There have been times he’s thought about sending a letter to Erebor, to Bofur for one of the animated toys he’d heard so much about on their adventure but there was no way without arousing the Dwarf’s curiosity and it was better to not reopen any wounds caused by his leaving. 

“How’s the wee thing doing this fine morning?”

Bilbo stops, turning towards Arabella Bumblefoot. She’s smiling brightly from beneath the brim of her straw hat, a basket of produce hanging from the crook of her arm. Her apron is already stained with berry juice from her latest baking project and Bilbo smiles. “Awake and quiet, which is a miracle.”

She comes closer and gently pulls down the edge of the sling to look at Frodo who gets an arm free and reaches for the pink ribbons dangling from Arabella’s hat. She twitches the ribbons from his reach and touches her fingers to his downy cheek. “Such a sweet lad. I better be gettin’ home before Harrier thinks about getting into my tarts but I’ll bring one by for you tomorrow morning. And something for Frodo.”

Bilbo nods as Arabella moves past him and he settles an arm under Frodo, supporting him better as he squirms. The rest of the walk to the market is quiet as most respectable Hobbits are still having breakfast and Bilbo smiles at the thought. He hasn’t been respectable since he ran out of Bag’s End over a year ago.

The market is equally quiet and Bilbo takes his time looking at the various stalls, the books and other little odds and ends along with the stalls dedicated to food. It doesn’t take long for him to find a fish he likes, fresh from the river and he smiles as the young buck wraps it in paper before handing it over with a smile. He lingers at the candle stall, checking lengths and scents, under the careful watch of the matron minding the stall. In the end he gets four triple wicked pillar candles and on a whim he buys a smaller candle, a rich ivory colour with a scent reminiscent of Thorin, dark and sharp and it’s a little bit of sentiment he can’t resist.

Purchases firmly in hand Bilbo returns to Bag End. Setting everything in the kitchen he goes to put Frodo on the floor of the living room, with his horse close by. He immediately pushes up, with a grin, showing his gums and gurgles. Twisting a curl of dark hair in his fingers Bilbo stands and ducks into the pantry. Frodo isn’t quite to the point where he’s trying to walk and there’s nothing in easy reach of him so Bilbo doesn’t mind leaving him alone for short periods of time. There are enough potatoes in his barrel to get him through for the next week at least but he’s almost out of carrots, which means a visit to Hamfast. He’s got apples and it’s almost time for plums. There are three big wheels of cheese and plenty of bread though he needs more seed cakes. 

Bilbo takes the small piece of paper from the shelf where he keeps it and jots down a quick list of what he needs. He won’t manage an actual shopping trip until someone stops by to watch Frodo. It’s not like he actually has to carry anything home, with so many people more than willing to deliver for him but Frodo isn’t quite up for the rigors of long negotiations.

List made he sets it where he’ll remember it before reentering the living room. Frodo is happily chewing on his horse’s leg, drool on his chin. Sitting on the floor Bilbo reaches up for the table and the small leather bound book there, along with the well worn quill and bottle of ink. He shakes the ink, smiling as he watches his son who looks like he’s about to fall asleep despite the vigorous gnawing he’s doing on the fabric. 

By the time Bilbo removes the cork from the ink Frodo is asleep again, fist curled against the carpet, small mouth partially open. Assured at least two hours peace Bilbo opens the book to the soft ribbon lying across the pages. There are already words there, the beginning of his journey to Erebor, staring with the encounter with Gandalf that morning. He’s been working on this since he got home, when he was so big trying to do anything else was difficult. So far he’s only managed to get through Fíli and Kíli’s arrival, unable to get any further despite his best attempts. Any thought of Thorin makes his quill pause and he’s almost given up on ever getting the account finished.

The rest of the day passes in quiet, Frodo waking briefly, to be fed and changed before falling asleep again. Bilbo takes the time to clean up a little bit, something that’s being neglected with Frodo around, and gets a fire built up so he can bake his salmon. It’s not his favourite way to cook it but as it requires less watching than frying it’s become a staple since Frodo has gotten more active.

After dinner they go back outside. Bilbo leans back against the wall, with Frodo against his chest. He finds himself recounting the story of the trolls, their conversation about the best way to cook the Dwarves, how Thorin had been the first to catch on to his ruse with the parasites. Gandalf’s sudden, life saving appearance, the stench of the troll hoard and the chest of buried gold he retrieved on the way home.

By the time he goes back inside Frodo is a warm, sweet weight against his shoulder, each tiny breath ghosting across his neck. He settles Frodo on his stomach in his crib, drawing a light blanket up over him. After a few seconds of watching he ventures out of his room and back into the kitchen for a last cup of tea and a seed cake.

Rinsing his cup and plate Bilbo banks the fire and moves into the living room. He blows out the candles and picks his way back to his room. He drops his suspenders and quickly changes into his nightshirt before slipping into the bed. The sheets are cool against his legs and it doesn’t take long before he drifts off, lulled by the sound of his son’s breathing.

\-----

The howl of a warg wakes Bilbo and he scrabbles for Sting, heart pounding in his chest as he closes his fingers around the handle. There’s a soft mewl from the foot of his bed and he relaxes, remembering he’s safe in Bag End, Frodo asleep in his cradle. Even now there are days he still has nightmares about the wargs, their flight from them before Rivendell and the never ending terror of the night Azog had hunted them down.

He sets Sting aside and settles back into his bed, eyes falling shut.

Another howl rises in the still night air, joined by others and Bilbo jolts upright. This is no dream. 

There are wargs in the Shire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for being patient with this update. I never meant it to take this long to get this update up, but things kind of blew up on me and it took me forever to get it finished. With luck it won't be nearly as long until the next update as the semester is over in two weeks. And thanks to everyone who left kudos, and comments!
> 
> On with the story!

Scrambling from his bed Bilbo makes his way to the wardrobe standing in the corner of the room. He pulls the door open and fumbles out his mithril shirt. Struggling to get it over his nightshirt he wriggles until it settles and he snatches up his pants, pulling them on and doing the suspenders over his chain shirt. 

He snatches up Sting, pulling the blade out the tiniest bit. It glows blue and he presses it back into the scabbard, fear running hot and oily through his system. There haven’t been goblins or orcs in the Shire in longer than most can remember and now…

Spinning he turns to the cradle. Frodo is still asleep though his face is scrunched up and one hand, free of the blankets is waving furiously. Leaning down Bilbo brushes his lips across one downy cheek before turning for the door. 

He pads to the front door and cracks it open, peering out, horror freezing him in place. Below him everything is burning and against the lurid flames he can see the shapes of the others fleeing and the great, terrible shapes of wargs and goblins as they stalk the Hobbits fleeing from them. 

A scream echoes in the night, only to be cut off and Bilbo swallows hard before retreating back inside, closing the door softly. Hands trembling Bilbo leans against the door, breath coming tight and fast. He should go try and help but even after the long trek to the east he still isn’t any more of a warrior now than the morning he left the safety of Bag End behind and there’s nothing he can do against the horde attacking his friends.

And now, he has another responsibility.

Frodo is awake, his thin, plaintive cry loud in the stillness of Bag End and Bilbo rushes back to the room, scooping him up. He presses a kiss to the soft crown of curls. “Quiet sweetling."

Setting Frodo in the safety of his bed Bilbo jerks a backpack out from under his bed. He packs it quickly, mostly with Frodo’s things, extra blankets and clothing before stuffing a couple of his own jackets in. Casting a look at the window where he can see the red glow of the fires he shakes his head and pulls a long black coat out of the wardrobe. 

Frodo mewls and Bilbo shrugs the jacket on, doing up the buttons to cover the mithril. Getting to safety is going to be hard enough with Frodo in his arms without making himself any more of a target if the goblins see the glint of his mail. Snatching up the backpack he gets it settled across his back before getting Frodo in the sling across his chest, his son swaddled in blankets, rag horse tucked in next to him.

Bilbo pads towards the side door to the house, one arm curved under Frodo’s warm weight, free hand on the hilt of Sting. He’s afraid to free the blade from the sheath, not wanting the glow to alert anyone outside to his presence. He reaches the door leading to the garden without any light and he slowly opens the door.

Outside is clear, besides the nanny goat and her kid who are awake and battering wildly at their small enclosure, their terrified cries mixing with the cacophony of yelling Hobbits, cackling goblins and the spine chilling calls of the wargs. Picking his way to the enclosure Bilbo raises the latch and jumps back as the goats spill out, the nanny breaking through the fence in her terror. He doesn’t actually think they’ll escape from the wargs but he can’t help but give them a chance. 

Hand tight around Sting’s handle he picks his way around the hill that makes up his home, towards the darkness behind and the relative safety it provides. He’s made it into the darkness when a howl splits the night behind him, disturbingly close. Frodo stirs against his chest, whining and Bilbo risks a glance behind.

In the light of the half-moon he can see the warg and goblin, the warg’s eyes like two pits of fire and Bilbo swallows hard, drawing Sting as he does. He isn’t a warrior but he won’t go down without a fight.

The goblin nudges its warg forward, sword a shadow at its side. “Where’s the nasty bigfoot think he goin’? Not going to make it far.”

“Just going for a midnight stroll.” Bilbo swings when the warg lunges forward and the beast draws back, snarling and circling him.

Cackling the goblin drops from its mount. “Bigfoot ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

With a yell the goblin charges forward, sword raised. 

Bilbo twists under the wild swing and bolts, heading for the nearest hill. He hears the goblin curse and the snarling of the warg and he runs faster, Frodo tight against his chest. Frodo is awake and crying, his wails loud in Bilbo’s ears and unless he can get him quieted down there is no place they’ll be safe.

He stumbles halfway up the hill and reacts on instinct, dropping Sting and catching at the ground to keep from falling on Frodo. His fingers sink into the wet soil and before he can even try to regain his footing the warg is over him, it’s fetid breath hot against the back of his neck. Swallowing Bilbo clutches Frodo to his chest as he casts a longing glance to where Sting is lying in the grass, just out of his reach. 

“I’m sorry Frodo.”

The goblin cackles and Bilbo curls around Frodo, waiting for the hot slice of pain.

Instead there’s a blast of light and heat and then silence. Bilbo chances a look and is surprised to find Gandalf standing over him, drawn sword in hand, eyes kind under the shadow of his hat. He scrambles to his feet, snatching up Sting as he does. “Gandalf!”

Gandalf nods and steps behind him, herding him towards a horse and pony with a light hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier Bilbo, but the important thing is that you and Frodo are okay.”

Resheathing Sting Bilbo allows Gandalf to help him mount. As Gandalf mounts Bilbo looks over to his shoulder where fires are still raging unchecked, screams and howls echoing in the night like a terrible dirge. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”

Face a mask of sadness Gandalf shakes his head as he gathers up his mount’s reins. “There is nothing I can do against that many goblins spread over such a big area and you and Frodo are my main worry. There is however, a group of Elves from Rivendell headed this way, to deal with the goblins and give succor to your people.”

Bilbo can only nod and cast a last look back towards his burning home and he can almost imagine what it was like for Thorin and the others when they lost Erebor.

\-----  
The morning sun is bright and Bilbo yawns. It feels like they’ve been riding forever and his eyes are gritty, his entire body aching from the unfamiliar strain of being on pony back again and the sheer terror from the night before. They’ve been riding all night, moving slowly to avoid still roaming packs of goblins and wargs, Gandalf leading them through fields and copses of trees, through the dark.

They finally reach Bree and Bilbo can do nothing but loosely clutch at the reins of his pony, Frodo close to his chest as he fights to stay awake for just a little longer. It’s even worse than the long night under the Misty Mountains, riddling with Gollum only to be chased by Azog and his orcs, because then it had only been his life in danger, not his child's. 

The Prancing Pony goes silent the moment they step inside and Bilbo peers around Gandalf. Everyone is staring at them, eyes compassionate and Bilbo moves closer to Gandalf, tucking Frodo against his chest. They mean the best but he doesn’t want their pity when all he can think of is the Brandybucks and Tooks, the Proudfoots and even the Sackville-Baggins, all left behind to face their fate because there was nothing Gandalf could have done to save them all.

He watches as the barkeep rounds the bar, holding a quick conversation with Gandalf that Bilbo can’t make out before he nods at the wizard’s words. The barkeep disappears, leaving them near the door and Bilbo shuffles aside, tucking his body into the niche by the door to avoid anyone who might come in.

Slowly the conversation in the Prancing Pony increases but is nowhere near the normal level Bilbo has witnessed when he’s been here times past. He shifts uncomfortably under the continued scrutiny, rocking Frodo who is staring up at him with half closed eyes.

Finally after what feels like forever the barkeep reappears at the bottom of the stairs, gesturing for them. Bilbo lets Gandalf guide him forward towards the stairs, one arm out, the fall of his robes giving him a curtain to hide behind as they cross to the stairs. It takes all his focus to make it up the stairs, exhaustion and sorrow having drained him physically as well as emotionally. 

He stumbles at the top but Gandalf catches him with a hand on his elbow, guiding him up the last step. Frodo mewls and he bows his head, nuzzling at dark curls as Gandalf nudges him down the hall to the last door, tucked in the corner.

The room is quiet and warm, a fire already burning in the hearth, candles lit on the small table between the beds. Their bags are already at the foot of the Man-sized bed and he stumbles to the Hobbit sized bed in the corner. He removes Frodo from his sling and just holds him close, face pressed against his soft curls. 

Frodo mewls and Bilbo takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. There will be time enough to mourn later but for now he has to focus on what is important, and that’s making sure Frodo is safe and comfortable. He carefully rests Frodo on the bed and then lifts the sling from over his head. He looks at the fabric, stained and worn and he drops it to the floor, kicking it under the edge of the bed, suddenly unable to look at the reminder of home.

Tucking the pillows closer to Frodo’s body Bilbo perches on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on his son’s stomach. “Why us? Why the Shire?”

Gandalf settles on the Man sized chair and pulls his pipe from his bag. He doesn’t do anything with it beyond turning it in his hands, gnarled fingers smoothing over the bowl. “There is a darkness spreading across Middle Earth Bilbo. One that Smaug, Dul Goldur, Azog the Defiler, the darkness plaguing Mirkwood, are all symptoms of.”

“It seeks and reaches, drawing goblins and similar things that lurk in the darkness, to do its will. I fear the darkness it seeks to propagate will consume us all should it find the one thing it longs for, that it has spent millennia searching for. Should it ever recover what it seeks, Middle Earth will be forever cloaked in darkness.”

Bilbo barely resists the urge to touch his jacket where his ring is tucked away, safe from prying eyes. He’s not sure what Gandalf is talking about but the ominous tone of his voice sends a chill down his back and he can only hope what Gandalf speaks off will never come to pass. 

Gandalf stands. “Rest Bilbo. You’ve had a long night and I will wake you when supper is ready.”

Nodding Bilbo moves to curl around Frodo, arm loosely wrapped around his son. He tucks his other arm under the pillow and closes his eyes though he doesn’t think he’s going to able to sleep. Physically he’s exhausted but his mind is still buzzing, images of the disaster he left behind burned against the inside of his eyelids. 

The last thing he’s aware of is Gandalf draping a blanket over him.  
\-----  
It’s dark when Gandalf wakes him and Bilbo sits up and stretches. There’s a tray on the table, with a bowl of stew, a chunk of bread and a good sized flagon. Gandalf is back in his chair with Frodo in his arms, holding one of the glass bottles from Rivendell steady as Frodo clutches at it, sucking hungrily. 

Gandalf smiles. “Good evening. He seemed unable to wait for you to wake up.”

Bilbo leans back against the headboard and takes up the piece of bread. “I’m surprised he waited as long as he did.”

He twists off pieces of the bread and eats them, watching as Gandalf feeds his son, the wrinkled face soft with a look Bilbo well remembers from his own youth. It isn’t until he’s finished the bread he realizes how hungry he is and he quickly eats the stew and drains the tankard. The food works wonders, leaving him feeling less lethargic but the horror lingers and he turns so he can better watch Gandalf and Frodo. 

Frodo finally gives up on the bottle and seems content to fall asleep in Gandalf’s arms, one hand clutching at the grey robes. Gandalf touches Frodo’s cheek. “We’ll leave for Rivendell in the morning. The sooner we get somewhere safe the better for all.”

Bilbo nods and curls against the headboard. His body aches and he’s exhausted but now that he’s eaten something he knows he won’t be able to sleep for a while yet. He quickly loses track of how long they sit in silence, he watching Gandalf who in turn is watching Frodo, gnarled fingers gently stroking the downy curve of his son’s cheek.

\-----

They’re just on the other side of Bree when a group of Elves pounds past, the two in the lead peeling off when Gandalf raises his staff. They are mirror images of each other, sharp faces and long dark hair. Their gazes drift to him, sympathy lighting their eyes and their conversation with Gandalf is brief before they spur their horses back into motion.

Gandalf nods his head down the road and Bilbo looks back where the Elves have already disappeared. “And those were?”

Settling deeper into his saddle Gandalf looks at Bilbo. “Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond’s sons. They have a particular hatred for goblins and their ilk and as such Lord Elrond decided they were the best choice to deal with the attackers. The Men of Bree have also been enlisted to help your people.”

Bilbo nods and lifts one hand to touch Frodo’s curls. His son is asleep again, face tucked against his chest and he’s glad Frodo isn’t old enough to remember any of this. 

They skirt the farmhouse and clearing where the Trolls are and from there it isn’t long until they’re out of the forest and into the plains where they’d only managed to avoid the Orcs and Wargs and he can’t help but hunch over Frodo, eyes darting around, looking for the Wargs he knows aren’t there.

It isn’t long before Gandalf is leading him down a well concealed pathway cut into the side of the canyon. He can already hear the water from the streams and waterfalls running through the valley, and he has to fight to not look at the canyon below but remain focused on his pony as it follows Gandalf down the path. 

Rivendell had been beautiful when they’d arrived there through the secret tunnel on the way to Erebor but it’s somehow even more awe-inspiring riding through the front gate and despite his dragging depression over the ruin of his home he can’t help but marvel at the graceful Elven architecture, built into the landscape to form a smooth transition from building to nature.

His pony seems content to follow Gandalf’s horse which is fine because he’s much happier looking at the scenery then paying attention to his surroundings. He’s jolted when his pony comes to a stop and he clutches at the reins as he tucks Frodo closer to his body.

It’s Elrond who greets them in the courtyard and he waits patiently for them to dismount before stepping forward. “Mithrandir.” He looks at Bilbo. “Master Baggins, I wish this meeting was under better circumstances and you have my deepest sorrow about the ills that have befallen your people and home.”

Bilbo nods but can’t find the words. Despite the fact the Shire is days behind them the memories of the screams and terror is still heavy over him. He feels like he hasn’t slept for days, eyes gritty, body aching with a pain that goes beyond just the physical and he wants nothing more than a chance to bathe and sleep.

Elrond glances at Frodo who is fussing, face scrunching up like he’s going to start screaming at any moment. "May I?”

Bilbo looks up at Gandalf who nods. Ducking his head he removes the sling and touches Frodo’s cheek before handing his son over. 

Elrond brushes Frodo’s hair back and he settles, bright eyes staring inquisitively up at the Elf. With a slight smile he checks the inside of Frodo’s mouth and slides a hand into the swaddling to check his heartbeat and palpate his abdomen. Withdrawing his hand he lets Frodo catch his fingers. “Such trips are difficult for older beings, let alone one so young but the prince is in good health. I will send up a soft mash that will give him much needed nutrients.” 

Bilbo glares at Gandalf as he takes Frodo back, not buying the innocent look on the wizard’s face. It seems he’s allowed no secrets. 

“Lindir, see our guests to their rooms.” Elrond sketches a bow. “A good evening’s rest to you both.”

Lindir steps forward as Elrond disappears up a flight of stairs. “Mithrandir, Master Baggins, if you would.”

Bilbo follows, acutely aware of Gandalf behind him, a steadying hand hovering near his shoulder and he’s grateful for it. Now that they’re safe, tucked in the heart of Rivendell the fear has drained away to leave behind mind-numbing exhaustion. He stumbles and Gandalf catches his shoulder, holding on as they descend a short flight of stairs. 

Lindir pauses outside a door. “Master Baggins, your belongings will be along shortly and I’ve already taken the liberty of stocking your room with other items you’ll need.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo enters the room and closes the door, leaning back against it as he looks around.

The gauzy curtains across the windows hide the view but the sound of running water and rustling leaves fill the room. There’s a beautifully carved cradle at the foot of the bed, in a wood so pale it almost looks like silver and a small table is tucked in one corner, piled with powders and unguents, diapers and finely made clothing.

The bed is one corner, the pristine white sheets inviting and Bilbo can’t help but smile at the stool tucked under the edge of the bed. 

Frodo stirs against his chest and Bilbo smiles. “At least I can get you into clean clothing.” He pushes away from the door and picks the knot of the sling apart, letting it drop to the floor.

He’s just barely stepped away from the door when there’s a single knock. Sighing he kicks the sling aside and opens the door, automatically stepping back for the four Elves outside. The first has his bags and sets them next to the cradle before leaving. The second and third are each carrying basins of steaming water they put near the windows and the fourth bears a covered try from which tantalizing aromas escape.

The last Elf bows on her way out before closing the door. The food smells divine but the pull of the water is greater. Bilbo lays Frodo on the bed and wriggles him free of his clothing. “At least you get a bath.”

Discarding everything in a corner Bilbo quickly divests himself of his coat, mithril shirt and waistcoat. Frodo loves baths and he doesn’t want to have to peel off layers of soggy clothing later.

Sure enough, the moment Frodo is in the water he starts splashing and giggling. Bilbo doesn’t even try to wash him until Frodo subsides, leaning against this supporting arm tiredly. He scrubs Frodo with the sweet smelling soap and then rinses him in the other tub before swaddling him in one of the decadently soft towels.

With Frodo cradled close Bilbo lifts the cover from the tray. There is grilled fish and a chunk of bread along with a salad and a small bowl of some beige mash with a small spoon. 

Frodo fights the spoon but finally relents, sucking the spoon clean with relish. He eats half of it before he refuses any more, pressing his face against his shoulder. Setting the bowl down Bilbo rests him back on the bed and gathers up a fresh diaper and a small robe. He dresses Frodo and lays him in the cradle, drawing the light blanket up. 

Gently stroking Frodo’s hair he doesn’t draw away until his son is soundly asleep. His dinner is cold but the fish is still delicious and he devours it, leaving behind a pile of bones. He takes the salad and roll with him on to the balcony and eats it there, the trees obscuring the sky but below there is one of the streams that runs through Rivendell and he finds it’s slow tumbling soothing. He knows he shouldn’t be standing in one place, that he’s going to stiffen up after spending so long in the saddle but the quiet is soothing and he’s disinclined to move. 

He doesn’t move until there’s a knock on the door and Bilbo pads over to open the door. Gandalf is outside, his usually wild hair and beard smoothed flat and damp, wearing a grey Elven robe.   
He looks Bilbo up and down before pushing the door open further. “There’s a bathing room just down the hall.”

Bilbo glances back to the cradle. “I couldn’t possibly-” He knows they’re safe but the thought of not having Frodo close sends a chill down his spine.

Gandalf touches his shoulder and smiles softly. “I think I can manage to watch one young Hobbit for a short while. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Before he can second guess himself Bilbo nods. He won’t let what happened rule his life. “I won’t be long.”

Gandalf’s smile softens and he steps back. “Take as long as you want.”  
Sitting on the stool Bilbo tugs the small tub close and submerges his feet. Taking up a chunk of soap and a cloth he gets to work on his feet, scrubbing the dirt from the hair and everywhere else until his skin is tingling and it’s only then that he sheds the rest of his clothing before climbing into a bigger, deeper tub. 

The hot water envelopes him and he ducks his head under the surface, staying under until his lungs burn. Surfacing Bilbo pushes his hair back and leans against the side of the tub, idly swirling one hand through the water. The heat sinks into his body and he closes his eyes. This is the best he’s felt in days and he ends up lingering far longer than he meant to, until the water is cool. Standing he quickly scrubs clean and ducks under the water one more time.

Snatching a towel from the floor he steps out and wraps it around his waist. There’s a robe and he picks it up, shrugging it on and doing up the belt before dropping his towel. Nose wrinkled in distaste Bilbo takes up his, dusty, sweaty clothing, holding it at a distance as he returns to his room. 

Bilbo tosses his burden in the corner and joins Gandalf who is out on the balcony, watching the water below, rings of smoke from his pipe rising into the air to be whisked away by the wind. He leans against the balcony railing. “Thank you.”

Gandalf looks down at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Whatever for?”

A bird flits by and Bilbo watches its flight until it disappears into the branches. “For risking your life.”

“I would have saved everyone, if it had been in my power, but you and Frodo are special.” Gandalf straightens up with a groan. “I will leave you to your rest.”

Bilbo listens as Gandalf leaves though he doesn’t move from the balcony, even though he’s tired. It’s only late afternoon and the view is stunning and he’s going to take in as much of it as he can. He lingers on the balcony long after the sun sets and only goes in when he can’t stop yawning.

\-----

They spend the next three days in Rivendell, recharging and regaining their strength and Bilbo enjoys it, exploring with Frodo tucked against his chest. The Elves are accommodating hosts, making sure he has everything he needs and quietly providing toys for Frodo when he starts fussing. 

\-----  
Stretching Bilbo slips from the bed and gathers up Frodo who is making quiet sounds, burbling and chattering to himself. “Good morning.”

Frodo smiles at him and waves a hand and Bilbo laughs and moves to the balcony. The morning breeze is soft and he leans against the railing, Frodo giggling and cooing, caught up in the small flock of birds moving from the branches.

Kissing the top of Frodo’s head Bilbo reenters the room. “Let’s get you dressed.” Frodo squeals as they leave the birds but beyond that doesn’t fuss when Bilbo changes and redresses him. He takes the free moment to dress himself in a set of his expertly cleaned clothing and then picks Frodo back up. “Why don’t we get some food?”

He’s barely gotten Frodo in his arms when there’s a knock on the door and he frowns. They haven’t eaten in their room since the day they’d arrived.

Frodo is warm against his shoulder and Bilbo opens the door. Gandalf is outside, wrapped in his traveling cloak and leaning heavily on his staff. The wizard frowns. “Why aren’t you ready to go?”

Patting Frodo’s back Bilbo steps back, allowing Gandalf into the room. “Go?”

Gandalf nods as he casts a look at the corner of the room where Bilbo has left the saddlebags, slumped and empty against the wall. “To Erebor of course. You didn’t think we were going to be staying here.”

Bilbo straightens up, hand spreading across his son’s back. Erebor has never been far from his thoughts but on the day he’d left there, with Gandalf at his side he’d made a silent vow to never return, not because he hadn’t wanted too, but because he couldn’t, for the sake of Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli. “Why Erebor? Surely Rivendell is safe enough.”

Scooping up Bilbo’s bags Gandalf tosses them on the bed. “Yes, and Lord Elrond did extend an offer for you and Frodo to remain here but I think it best place for the son of the King under the Mountain and his consort is at his side, safe in Erebor.”

It isn’t even worth denying that Frodo is Thorin’s and Bilbo perches on the edge of the bed, watching as Gandalf turns in a circle, exasperation clear on his face when he gets a good look at the way Frodo’s belongings are spread over the room. “That still doesn’t answer my question Gandalf.”

Grabbing a stack of clothing Gandalf jams them in the bag. “Questions are all well and good Bilbo but now is not the time for them. Erebor is waiting and the sooner there, the better for everyone.” He looks at Bilbo.

Bilbo sighs and settles Frodo in the middle of the bed before getting up to help Gandalf pack. It isn’t long before they have everything and Bilbo follows Gandalf out, the Wizard carrying his bags and mumbling under his breath.

Their mounts are already in the courtyard, and there’s a heavily laden packhorse with them, its lead tied to the saddle of Gandalf’s horse. Elrond is there and he holds the bridle of Bilbo’s pony as he mounts. “I will keep you informed of the progress on the Shire. And please convey my greetings to the King Under the Mountain.”

“Of course. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Elrond bows his head and steps back and Bilbo catches at the reins as his pony lurches into step behind Gandalf’s horse.   
\-----  
The trip through the mountains is without Goblins or Stone Giants though Bilbo can’t help but look for Gollum in the rocks and crevices and the long shadows cast by the mountains. And even after they clear the mountains he can’t shake the feeling something is watching him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a last little update before we get to Erebor and hopefully for the next month or so updates will be slightly more regular. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos!

The Carrock looms above them and Bilbo can’t help but smile because that’s where everything changed between him and Thorin that made it possible for Frodo’s existence and he dips his head to kiss Frodo’s forehead. 

They reach Beorn’s home in late afternoon, and luckily they don’t have to go through the subterfuge from the last time. Beorn greets them a booming laugh and bounds down the stairs before carefully scooping up Bilbo. “Little bunny!”

He frowns and then smiles. “And you have a little one!”

Bilbo smiles as Beorn gently sets him back down. “I do. How have you been?”

Beorn looks considering for a moment before shrugging. “Good. My bees and animals are happy and there are no goblins.” He gestures towards the door. “Come. There is bread and honey.”

The hall is exactly the same as Bilbo remembers and he takes a seat at the table. The sheep and ram quickly arrive, spreading the same embroidered cloth with animals while the dogs take the plates from the back of the sheep and place them on the table. In addition to the bread and honey there’s some more mash and Bilbo reaches for that first, to feed Frodo.

After they’ve eaten the animals clear the table though one of the rangy, grey dogs hovers close to Bilbo. The dog edges closer and touches its nose to Frodo’s cheek. For a moment Bilbo thinks Frodo is going to start crying, from the way his face scrunches up but instead he laughs and reaches out, patting the dog.

Beorn smiles. “My animals adore little ones.”

Bilbo takes it for what it is and sets Frodo on the floor. The dog immediately flops to the floor near Frodo and seems content to let him pull at his fur and crawl over him. He keeps his eyes on Frodo, only paying partial attention as Gandalf tells Beorn of the happenings in the Shire. 

At the end of the tale Beorn stands. “Would that I were closer little bunny, and I would save your Shire from the foul creatures running through there.”

Bilbo swallows hard, and blinking against the sudden sting of tears. “I know.”

The rest of the day passes in quiet and Bilbo beds down on a small straw mattress with Frodo against his chest and the dog sprawled out behind him, an extra layer of warmth in the chill of the big hall. 

The next morning they again eat bread and honey and when they prepare to leave there is a crock of Beorn’s honey tucked in amongst the packs on the back of the horse.

Beorn lifts Bilbo on to his pony and gently touches one massive finger to Frodo’s forehead. “Good luck little bunny.”

Bilbo smiles. “Thank you.”

\-----

A cadre of Elves meets them on the border of Mirkwood, fully armed and beautiful and Bilbo edges his pony closer to Gandalf’s horse as the Elves close around them. He well remembers his last visit, the smug iciness in Thranduil’s gaze as they’d stood below him, as Thorin had plead their cause, the way the king had dismissed them.

Thranduil greets them in what passes as his throne room and he’s as beautiful and aloof as last time and it sends a shiver down his spine. He edges closer to Gandalf, not liking the way the icy eyes settle on him before lingering on Frodo, a smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. 

“Mithrandir, Master Baggins be welcome. And of course, the young prince.”

The soft words send another chill through him and Bilbo holds Frodo closer. He can’t read the Elf but he has a feeling whatever Thranduil is thinking is uncharitable. 

Thranduil waves a hand. “You are of course welcome to all of the hospitality my kingdom has to offer.”

That seems to be their dismissal as another Elf steps from the shadows and gestures for them to follow. 

They’re escorted to a room where there’s already a platter of food and a bottle. Bilbo sits and feeds Frodo before tucking him on the bed. He takes up a bowl of salad and looks at Gandalf. “We’re only staying the night?”

Gandalf looks at him and nods and Bilbo can see in the understanding in the Wizard’s eyes. “There’s no reason to linger with as close as Erebor is.”   
\-----

They wake before what little bit of sunlight makes it through Mirkwood settles. Yawning Bilbo accepts the bottle Gandalf thrusts into his hands. He feeds Frodo with one hand as he eats a stuffed roll with the other and it isn’t long before they’re back in the saddle. Thranduil is absent for which Bilbo is grateful, as he doesn’t think he can face the Elf King right now. 

A different group of Elves escort them from the court and the ride is quiet, broken only by the sound of the horses’ hooves on the road and the gentle chiming of the tack.

The Elves leave them just at the border and Bilbo reins in his pony. Erebor rises in the distance, a dark spot on the horizon with the long silvery line of the lake below it, Lake-Town a blotch of darkness on the coast. The road parallels the river and the sound is a welcome as they make their way towards the town. 

There are a few moments of confusion as they enter the town but it isn’t long before Bard is pushing through the gathered crowd. “Welcome!”

Bard leads them through town and Bilbo can’t help but notice the quality of building and clothing among the residents and it’s obvious the Men are benefiting from having Erebor producing again. They stop in front of a large house in the middle of town and Bard gestures towards it. “Your home for the evening.”

Bilbo follows Gandalf inside. The walls are a deep honey colour, with knick-knacks on the walls and it’s obvious the house is well lived in and Bilbo can’t help but wonder who they’re displacing. There’s already a fire going and a simple meal is on the table, the smells filling the room. 

Gandalf disappears and Bilbo doesn’t pay him much mind, instead finding a bowl of something the colour of mashed turnips on the table. Frodo seems pleased with it, grabbing at the spoon every time it comes near and it’s a miracle most of it gets in his mouth rather than on his clothing. 

Wiping some of the mash off Frodo’s face Bilbo starts when Gandalf reappears without his hat and staff. “You move as quietly as a Hobbit.”

Gandalf smiles and settles in a chair, lighting his pipe as he does. “Never as quiet as you, my dear Bilbo. There’s hot water in the kitchen if you would like a chance to bathe yourself and Frodo.”

Bilbo nods and eats, Frodo carefully balanced against his chest, yawning as he does. Frodo barely rouses when he gives him a bath, making only faint mewling sounds. He settles his son on the bed, tucking the massive pillows around him before venturing back down for his own bath.

Gandalf disappears into the town but Bilbo remains behind, taking the time to enjoy the peace, the safety of being inside. He finds a small book on one table, and it’s filled with the poetry of Men. Curled in a chair by the fire he keeps half his attention waiting for the inevitable wail of Frodo as he reads.

It isn’t until Gandalf returns, long after the sun has set that Bilbo finally rouses. He wakes Frodo, feeds and changes him before putting him back to bed. His own dinner with Gandalf is quiet and he retires not long after, leaving the Wizard alone downstairs. 

The windows of the room he’s been given look out towards Erebor and though Bilbo knows he should sleep, in anticipation of the whirlwind day he’s sure he will be having but he isn’t tired. He draws one of the blankets from his bed closer around his shoulders, hoping it will ease some of the His stomach is roiling with apprehension and he feels like he’s going to fly into a million pieces. He’d never imagined he would be in this position and now that he is he has no idea how everything is going to play out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos!

They leave Laketown early that morning, Bard taking them across the water, guiding their horses and pony to the dock with gentle hands. He helps Bilbo mount and then bows. “My regards to the King Under the Mountain.” There’s a hint of mocking to his voice and Bilbo frowns. It seems Bard hasn’t entirely forgiven Thorin for Smaug’s descent on Laketown despite the now vibrant life of the city since Erebor was reclaimed.

Erebor rises above them, piercing the early morning fog and below the ruins of Dale still stand, eerie despite Smaug’s death and Bilbo wonders if there are any plans to reclaim the city or if the Dwarves are going to remove it. They pass the remains and Bilbo hunches in the saddle, well remembering the wash of heat from Smaug’s breath, the terror as they’d fought to best him.

The road curls up to Erebor’s front gates, replaced after Smaug’s destruction of them, the green stone glittering in the sun breaking through the clouds. They stand open, guards in heavy plate and closed helms flanking the opening, their pikes glittering in the sun, broad head axes across their backs. The guards bow their heads as they pass through the gates. 

Around them the Gallery of Kings is bright and shiny, new banners hanging from the walls and all that remains of the massive statue of Thrór is the pedestal. Dwarves bustle back and forth, calling to each other, the room echoing with the sounds and Bilbo smiles, warmth filling his heart. This is why he left home, to give these people back theirs and it’s amazing to see.

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo doesn’t even manage to get off his pony before he’s being pulled down and smashed between Fíli and Kíli. The two Dwarves are chattering at him, hands running up and down his body, completely oblivious to Frodo in his arms. He jams his elbow in Kíli’s side when he gets a little too close to crushing Frodo but the prince ignores it, moving around to his back.

“Fíli, Kíli.”

The brothers step back and Bilbo turns to his rescuer. It’s a Dwarf woman, with looping braids decorated in silver, her beard short and beaded. A slim silver circlet rests on her brow and she’s dressed in a fine silken robe over pants. Her eyes are a familiar blue and he manages an awkward bow, causing Frodo to mewl at being jostled. “My Lady.”

She laughs. “I don’t know whether I should be flattered or not that you already know me Master Baggins.”

Bilbo glances at Fíli and Kíli who are making violent cutting motions behind their mother’s back, eyes wild like when Thorin caught them doing something he didn’t approve of. “I heard many tales of you from your sons, all good.”

Dís looks at her sons who both freeze mid gesture. “No need to try and save my sons Master Baggins, as I know well the types of stories Fíli and Kíli are prone to telling. Sons, see to the ponies and bring Master Baggins’ bags up to the royal wing.”

Bilbo rocks up on his toes. “Really, there’s no need to go to the royal wing. I would be content with just a simple room.”

The look Dís gives him is eerily reminiscent to Thorin’s and she frowns. “You have done much for this family and were an integral part of retaking Erebor. You are an honoured guest and as such will be given rooms with the rest of us.” 

She starts off and Bilbo glances at Fíli and Kíli who make a shooing gesture. “Hurry up! She’ll leave you behind.”

With a yelp he catches up to Dís, one arm under Frodo who is fussing, ready for food, clean clothing and a stationary bed and Bilbo can’t blame his son at all. He’s just as desperate to have time to just sit and not think, to not worry about the next part of the journey or the weather, if Frodo is warm and comfortable.

“Thorin would have preferred to be the one to welcome you but he is meeting with an envoy from the Iron Hills.”

Bilbo falls into step with Dís and tries to ignore the way the Dwarves move out of the way and bow to Dís, mumbling in Khuzdul as they pass. “I understand. Diplomacy is more important than greeting a wayward Hobbit.”

Leading him up a long flight of stairs Dís turns to frown at him. “Do not belittle yourself Master Baggins. I have heard from both my sons and brother, what you did for them, for us, and there is no possible way we could ever repay you.”

Frodo fusses and Bilbo run gentle fingers over his soft curls. “I couldn’t turn my back on them. Everyone deserves a place to call home.”

Dís smiles as she leads him past two guards who bow as they pass through an intricately carved arch. “Despite the fact our home was occupied by a worm.”

“Yes well, that was an issue, but it wasn’t insurmountable in the end.”

Laughing Dís stops in the middle of the hall. “For which we are all grateful. Fíli and Kíli’s rooms are these two here. Mine is next to my eldest and your room is next to Kíli’s while Thorin’s is at the end. This hall is kept under guard through day and night, though the Company has access to them at all times without question. On the level below is a sitting room and dining room, again, for the royal family.”

She opens one set of doors and gestures for him to enter. He does so, looking around in awe, shocked by the richness of the rooms. The outer room is a sitting room, with a great fireplace built into one wall, the blocky, linear art favoured by Dwarves carved into the dark stone. A massive rug in rich earth tones takes up much of the floor and there are several armchairs and small tables scattered around the room. 

Thick tapestries hang from the walls to help keep the room warm and massive candelabras stand in the corners to provide light.

Wandering further into the room reveals two more doorways, one of which leads to a small water closet with a big stone tub. The second door leads to a bedroom nearly the size of the sitting room. It is dominated by a huge bed with dark blankets and a massive brown striped pelt across the foot. There is a smaller fireplace across from the bed and a dark wood wardrobe, the door open to reveal a line of clothing.

Bilbo turns to look at Dís who is watching him with a soft smile. The room is beyond what he expected, as luxurious as those in Rivendell, in a different way. “I’m impressed by how the city looks. You have done an amazing job in such a short time.”

“It was all by Thorin’s order. After the front gate was repaired he ordered the city and homes be repaired before the mines and forges. Our people have been without homes for so long that he would have it no other way, and of course it helped, that beyond the front gate and the room where Smaug lay, very little was damaged, beyond the rigors of time.” Dís bows. “If you will excuse me Master Baggins, I must see to the rest of your accommodations and anything else you might need.”

Before he can tell her not to worry she’s gone from the room. Bilbo sighs and drops into one of the armchairs. One arm under Frodo he reaches up and picks the knot of the sling free and pulls the fabric from under his son, dropping it to the floor. Settling Frodo on his lap he walks his fingers up the swell of his stomach to gently touch a thumb to his chin. “Well Frodo, do you think you can live here?”

Bilbo closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the chair. It feels good to be sitting, to not have to move or worry about the next part of the journey, if they’re going to be faced with a pack of Goblins or Orcs, or the weather. He doesn’t want to be here, not when he knows he’s going to have to face Thorin at some point, but he can admit after what happened in the Shire, that Erebor is the safest place to be, though he’ll never admit it to Gandalf. 

He stretches his legs out, wiggling his toes against the warmth of the fire and the slight movement upsets Frodo who makes an unhappy sound before subsiding. It’ll be a while yet before he has to feed Frodo and he doesn’t feel inclined to move, knowing they are safe doing wonders to ease the stress that has settled on his shoulders like a cloak.

The room is pleasantly warm and Bilbo closes his eyes. Frodo fusses and he opens his eyes and settles his son in the blanket padded basket next to the chair he’s in. With a yawn Frodo sinks into the blankets, tiny hand clenching before he drifts to sleep.

Leaning back in his chair Bilbo dozes before the sound of the door opening drags him awake and he yawns. 

“Well, if it isn’t our burglar!”

Bilbo turns and smiles. “Bofur!”

The hatted dwarf bows and straightens up with a grin. “At your service.” He steps into the room and whistles as he looks around. “Nice rooms.” He wanders in further, looking around, at the intricate stone carvings, the heavy tapestries on the walls, and the thick carpet on the floor. “I almost didn’t believe it when the lads came running in that you were here. I thought it was just one of their flights of fancy.”

“No, I am here and very much real, if the bruises and stiff joints from being bounced about on pony back are real.” 

Bofur winks at the Hobbit. “Still not any better at riding a pony are you.”

Bilbo straightens up, tugging at the edge of his waistcoat. “I hardly have reason to ride in the Shire and besides, Frodo doesn’t like it.”

Pausing in fingering one of the tapestries Bofur turns to look at Bilbo. “Frodo?”

“My son.”

Bofur grins. “Well, you didn’ waste any time when you got home.”

He knows Bofur doesn’t mean anything by the joke but it aches none the less, the knowledge that none of the Dwarves had taken his relationship with Thorin seriously. Leaving Erebor had been difficult, almost impossible, his want for Bag End whittled down to a passing thought, when faced with the brightness of his new family, and his blossoming relationship with Thorin. 

“Where’s his ma?”

Bilbo shakes his head. “It’s only Frodo and I.”

“Oh.” Bofur looks contrite, tugging at his hat. “Sorry, didn’ mean to stir anything up.”

Smoothing down his waistcoat Bilbo shakes his head. “It’s fine Bofur. You didn’t know. Frodo’s other parent, has been-absent.” It’s a terrible lie, casting shadows on Thorin and it makes Bilbo’s guilt grow but this isn’t the time to reveal everything.

“’m sorry to hear that Bilbo, but I bet you and the little one have been doing fine.” Stroking his mustache Bofur bobs his head. “I gotta be going, but don’t worry, I’ll be by again.”

After Bofur leaves it turns into a parade of Dwarves through his rooms. Bifur claps him on the shoulder so hard he almost falls over, with a grin and something muttered in Khuzdul. Bombur stops by, pressing several loafs of warm, fragrant bread into his hands before disappearing. Glóin and Dwalin are next, bearing between them an enormous, carved cradle overflowing with blankets. Glóin nods to him on the way out and Dwalin ruffles his hair with a laugh.

Óin stops by with a basket of unguents and salves and a knowing look at the cradle. Dori and Nori stop by long enough to wave from the door before disappearing again and Ori is only moment behind them, yelling about something he wants Bilbo to look at.

Fíli and Kíli burst into the room, Kíli dragging in a younger wild eyed, redheaded Dwarf who is laden down with a massive tray. Fíli sweeps the tray from the other Dwarf, setting it on the table as his brother shoos the redhead from the room. “Mother said you would want something to eat.”

Bilbo nods as he looks at the tray. Everything is steaming and the smells fill the room, reminding him of the fact he hasn’t actually eaten anything since much earlier in the day. There’s even a pitcher in one corner and he lifts the warm stone lid to find it full with milk. “She was right.”

Frodo chooses that moment to make his presence known, a piercing wail that means one thing. Brushing past Kíli he scoops Frodo up, cradling him to his chest as he skims his fingers down his back and presses a kiss to soft curls. “I know, just give me a moment. Fíli.”

There’s no response and he looks to where the brothers are standing together, looking stricken, like they had on the Carrock before Gandalf had managed to awaken Thorin. “Fíli!”

Fíli jumps and takes a half step forward, his gaze firm on Frodo. “Yes?”

Bilbo moves to sit in the chair, fingers still running up and down Frodo’s back, trying to calm the unrelenting wails. “In the bag by the bed, there’s a bottle, wrapped in cloth. Get it please and fill it with the milk.”

With a jerky nod Fíli moves to obey, going to his knees to dig through the bag. Kíli fidgets and takes a hesitant step forward. “I wondered why mother said to make sure we brought warm milk up.” He glances at Bilbo. “Is he yours?”

Bilbo nods as he accepts the filled bottle from Fíli. He slips the nipple between Frodo’s lips and he latches on with a mewl, sucking hard, eyes closed. Smiling he moves to sit back in his chair, again stretching his feet out towards the fire. He watches as Fíli and Kíli exchange a look before they both creep closer. 

Fíli looks at him and Bilbo nods. The Dwarf reaches out, fingers gently touching Frodo’s curls. “Where’s his mother?”

“It’s just been the two of us.” He doesn’t go any further. It’s easier to let them think Frodo’s other parent isn’t in the picture rather than telling them the truth, that he left Erebor for Thorin and them, that except for Frodo he’s been miserable in the Shire despite the support of his neighbors and family. 

“Fíli, Kíli, I think Master Baggins would like to rest.”

They all turn to find Dís standing in the doorway, smiling softly and her smile widens as her sons join her at the door. “Master Baggins will not be going anywhere.” She herds them from the room and turns to smile at him. “Sleep well Master Baggins.”

Bilbo sets the bottle aside. “Good evening Your Highness.” He settles Frodo back into the basket by the chair. 

Bilbo drops into the chair near the fire and closes his eyes. In the year he’s been gone he’s almost forgotten how tiring it is being around the Dwarves, their constant energy, bubbling just under the surface even when they’re exhausted. And even though he feels like he could sleep in the chair, and that it took the attack on the Shire, he’s glad he’s in Erebor, back with the Dwarves who became his family in the process of reclaiming the mountain. 

He dozes, basking in the warmth of the fire and knowledge that Frodo is safe. 

There’s a knock and then it cracks open and Bilbo looks up to find Balin peering in. “Come in.”

Balin pauses in the door. “I can return Master Baggins, if the others have made you tired of Dwarven presence.”

Bilbo jumps to his feet. “Of course not. To be honest, I am glad to see you. Your presence is not nearly as tiring as that of the others.”

Balin comes into the room. “I’m sorry to hear about what happened to the Shire. When we received the bird from Rivendell Thorin almost didn’t read it but I convinced him it must be dire. We were relieved to hear that you and your little one were unharmed.”

There’s a question in Balin’s voice and Bilbo inclines his head. “Frodo is mine, in every way.”

“A carrier. How interesting.” Balin slowly approaches the basket by Bilbo’s chair. “Well, isn’t he just a precious little pebble. Such fine dark curls and blue eyes.”

Bilbo feels heat spread across his cheeks at the scrutiny in Balin’s eyes. By the end of the journey it felt like the entire company had known about he and Thorin, though none of them had ever said anything, out of respect for Thorin. And now he can’t help but wonder if Balin is putting the timing together, knows who Frodo’s father is. 

If Balin knows anything he doesn’t say anything, instead clapping his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “We’re glad you’re here and safe laddie, you and the little one both.”

He walks Balin to the door. “Thank you.”

Yawning Bilbo closes the door before crossing to the basket. He picks Frodo up and takes him into the bedroom, and changes him before lying him in the crib and drawing the fine, soft blanket up over him. From there he pads into the bathroom and starts the tub, sticking his fingers under the hot water.

He checks on Frodo as he waits for the tub to fill, gently touching his son’s curls. By now he’s given up any hope of Thorin coming to see him. Erebor is far more important than welcoming one Hobbit. 

Once the tub is full Bilbo strips and climbs in, groaning as the heat sinks into muscles and skin, easing some of the knots that have persisted despite the weeks he’s spent in the saddle. He lingers until the water begins to cool and only then does he grab the soap and scrub before rinsing and climbing out. 

Snatching up one of the towels Bilbo quickly dries himself before slipping on the waiting nightshirt that almost falls to his ankles. It’s sinfully soft, worn that way with repeat washings and might have once been dark blue but has since faded to a blue reminiscent of the sky in the few minutes after the sun has set.

Suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion Bilbo pulls the drain in the tub and shuffles back into the bedroom. Stopping at the cradle he bends to kiss Frodo’s temple before crawling into his own bed. The mattress is soft and he draws the blankets high and it isn’t long before sleep claims him. 

\-----

Barely awake Bilbo nearly falls from the bed, in a rush to answer the door before the heavy handed knocking wakes Frodo. He jerks the door open, ready to give whoever on the other side a tongue lashing but the words die when he realizes who is in the hallway.

Thorin is in front of him, dressed only in pants and a dark blue shirt, gaze intense as he looks him over. Without thinking Bilbo presses forward, arms sliding around Thorin, fingers clenching in his shirt as he tucks his face into Thorin’s shoulder. There’s a moment where Bilbo thinks he’s wrong, that Thorin isn’t happy to see him. They parted on amicable terms, though he’d seen the quiet anger in Thorin’s face when he’d left to return to the Shire. He isn’t expecting a return to what they once had, which is part of the reason he left in the first place but he wants a return to the easy companionship that had been forged after the Carrock.

Finally after what seems an interminable wait Thorin finally moves, a strong arm banding around his back, pulling him in as a hand cups the back of his head. “Bilbo.”

Thorin’s voice rumbles through him and Bilbo tightens his grip on the fabric of the Dwarf’s shirt. This is what he’s missed, Thorin’s strength, his scent, damp earth and fire with the tang of metal, the slow, steady beat of his heart. “Thorin.”

Like this he can almost believe the last year hasn’t happened, that he’s been here with Thorin this entire time, that this is simply a normal morning for them.

And then Frodo is crying and Thorin tenses and pulls away with a thunderous frown on his face and Bilbo feels cold, not just from Thorin’s retreat but because of the look on the Dwarf’s face, one he remembers well from before the Carrock, when he had been seen as nothing more than a hindrance.

“A child?”

Bilbo nods, hands clenching into fists. Now would be the time to speak up, to tell Thorin Frodo is his but the words stick in his throat. “Yes.”

Thorin’s frown deepens and he draws upright. “Yours?”

This time a nod is all Bilbo can manage and he watches as Thorin steps back, face devoid of emotion but his eyes are dark with anger and Bilbo swallows hard. 

“Welcome to Erebor Master Baggins.” Thorin inclines his head before spinning on his heel and disappearing back into his room, the ponderous door slamming closed behind him.

Shaking his head Bilbo turns back and closes the door to his own room. He gathers Frodo up and changes him before going back out into the main room. With a sigh he settles back in the chair closest to the smoldering coals of the night’s fire and rests his cheek against Frodo’s hair, curly as his and as inky dark as Thorin’s and Bilbo can only hope this isn’t how it ends.

Sometime later Bilbo is roused by the grumbling of his stomach and Frodo’s fussing and he finds his feet, raking a hand through his curls as he stands. “I suppose food wouldn’t go amiss.”

Placing Frodo back in the cradle Bilbo quickly sheds his nightshirt for clean clothing before scooping his son back up. He pauses outside the door to his room, unable to keep his gaze from the end of the hall where Thorin’s room is located.

The doors are massive, carved with the Durin crest and Bilbo turns away from them, Frodo tucked against his shoulder. He pauses at the stairs leading downward, a frown creasing his brow. Vague memory has him making his way down the second set of stairs and he’s assailed by the smell of fresh bread and spices.

There’s a doorway to his immediate left and he peers around the edge. The room is small, decorative pillars carved in the walls, thick tapestries hanging between them to help ease the chill of the mountain and a single table runs down the middle, chairs on either side.

Dís is at the head, a mug on the table in front of her. He sidles into the room. “Your Highness.”

She smiles indulgently and beckons him into the room. “Master Baggins. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.” Bilbo moves to a chair near her but doesn’t sit down. He isn’t sure of proper etiquette when dealing with meals and royalty now that they’re out of the wild and in Erebor but Dís takes the decision from his hands, shoving out the chair with her foot.

Taking the hint Bilbo sits down, Frodo against his chest as he looks at the table. There’s a plate of dark sausages, several different loaves of bread, ewers and a large pot of porridge. “I don’t suppose-” He doesn’t even manage to get his request out before Dís is setting a filled bottle on the table next to his plate. 

“Our most skilled glassworker was up late creating several of those for you.” Dís leans back, hands curling around her mug.

Taking the bottle Bilbo gets Frodo settled in the curve of his arm and Frodo immediately latches onto the bottle, tiny hands around his. “I appreciate it, but there was really no need. I have several bottles from Rivendell.”

Dís shrugs, the movement graceful under the heavy fur coat she is wearing. “It was his pleasure, as he told me many times when he delivered them to me this morning.” She takes a drink. “Have you seen my brother?”

Bilbo looks down at Frodo, eyes tracing the sweep of dark lashes across plump cheeks, the way his lips are pursed around the nipple of the bottle. “Very briefly. He wasn’t very…pleased by the time he left.”

He looks up in time to see Dís’ face pinch in anger, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Your Highness?”

Dís sighs. “Mahal save me from the stubbornness of Thorin Oakenshield.” With a sigh she leans forward, resting her hand on Bilbo’s forearm. “Master Baggins, forgive my brother. He isn’t always the best at acknowledging what he wants and he tends to, get lost, for a lack of a better term, before he manages to finally admit to wanting something.”

Bilbo manages a wan smile at that. “Something I am very familiar with.”

There’s something in the way Dís smiles at him, the curl of her lips and the light in her eyes makes Bilbo think she might know what went on between he and Thorin and he can’t decide if she approves or not. 

Dís takes a drink and then sets her mug down, hands curling around it. “Is there anything you wish to see today Master Baggins?”

Hand spread across Frodo’s back Bilbo leans forward and manages to get a sausage and a piece of bread onto his plate without dropping them. “No. Honestly, I was just thinking of spending the day in my room. I am far from recovered from the journey and a quiet day sounds like the perfect thing.”

“Of course. I will make sure to have your meals sent to your room for the day, and I hope you wouldn’t take offense if I was to send the royal tailor up later in the day?”

Bilbo pauses with the bread halfway to his mouth. “There’s really no need. Lord Elrond was kind enough to make sure Frodo and I had plenty of clothing to make the journey.”

Dís refills her mug from one of the ewers, a derisive curl to her lips. “To which I am grateful, but the Elves know little of the cold one is exposed to living deep under the earth and I would have you and Frodo warm and comfortable.”

Ducking his head Bilbo fights the urge to smile. Dís’ contempt isn’t as sharp as Thorin’s but there is little doubt in his mind it’s only because Dís is the more diplomatic of the siblings and despite the fact Erebor has been reclaimed, the Dwarven hatred towards the Elves for leaving them to Smaug’s cruel mercies will never be forgotten.

“Then of course, a visit from the tailor would be welcome.” He looks up to find Dís inclining her head with a faint smile and he knows it was the correct answer. “As long as you make sure to inform him that socks and boots are not happening.”

Dís’ gaze slides to the door as she nods. “Of course. Yes?”

Bilbo twists in his chair to follow Dís’ eyes. There’s a Dwarf woman in the doorway, wearing what appears to be some kind of uniform, a raven picked out on the breast in silver.

She ducks her head. “Apologies for interrupting Your Highness, but there is a matter with supplies in the kitchen that the head cook would like you to deal with.”

“Go ahead and tell him I will be down shortly.” Dís pushes away from the table and stands. Rounding the edge of the table she rests a hand on his shoulder. “The work of royalty waits for no Dwarf. Should you need anything besides your meals, do not hesitate to call on the guards at the entrance to the royal wing. They speak Westron and have been told they are to treat you as if you were a member of the line of Durin.”

Heat spreading through his body Bilbo ducks his head. He doesn’t think he deserves such gratitude for his part in retaking Erebor but he knows trying to persuade any of the Dwarves of that is an impossible task. “Thank you.”

Dís smiles and gently touches Frodo’s curls. “No thanks are necessary Master Baggins. Have a pleasant day.”

Bilbo watches as Dís sweeps from the room, regal and beautiful and he has a feeling living in Erebor is going to be an adventure in and of itself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick little update before classes start again. Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos and commented. I appreciate every little bit.

Thorin tosses the sheaf of missives on his desk, on top of everything else that he needs to deal with. The latest batch is from the Dwarves who remained in Ered Luin rather than returning to Erebor and there’s still the ones from Dain, trade agreements from Lake Town and further awaiting his perusal and approval and he can’t get up the energy to work on any of it. 

The door to the study opens and he isn’t surprised to see Balin enter. He’s dismissed all of his councilors and Balin is the only one of the old Dwarves not completely in awe of him. “Balin.”

Balin sits in one of the chairs in front of the desk and leans back, smoothing down his beard. “Have you seen Bilbo?”

Thorin stops and removes his crown, setting it on the edge of the desk. It isn’t nearly as ostentatious as his grandfather’s, much to the consternation of the Royal metalworkers. “Briefly, early this morning.”

Staring at Thorin’s back Balin waits. Patience has never been Thorin’s strongest trait and he knows all he has to do is wait and the younger Dwarf will eventually reveal what is bothering him. 

“He has a child.”

Balin pushes up from his chair. “I told you it might come to this lad. If you had simply been upfront with Bilbo at the beginning of your relationship with him, none of this would have come to pass.” 

Thorin turns. “And what would you have had me tell him? Anything I might have said would have trapped him here with me, out of duty and what little affection he held for me. And that affection would have grown cold and bitter as the years passed, as he longed for the Shire but couldn’t return home because guilt kept him here.”

“I think Thorin, had you been up front with Bilbo in the beginning, he might have surprised you, as he did so many times on the journey.” Balin moves to stand behind Thorin. “Would you like me to look over the missives?”

Nodding Thorin turns and steps around his elder. “You know where I’ll be if anything comes up.” He leaves before Balin can say anything else.

His journey down through his kingdom is quick and quiet, many of the Dwarves dipping their heads in obeisance as they hurry about their business. Thorin is proud of the strides his people have made in reclaiming their home, putting everything to rights.

Work on repairing the forges has been slow as they’ve been focusing on living quarters for the city but Thorin is sure in the next six months the forges will be back up to full capacity and Erebor’s output will double if not triple. He acknowledges the master smiths and their apprentices as he makes his way through the forge. The heat from the forges is staggering and Thorin immediately sheds his coat and outer tunic upon reaching his sanctuary.

It’s a small forge set in one corner of the massive forge room, the fire in the forge kept perpetually banked by anyone of the hundreds of under-smiths constantly running through the forges at the beck and call of the other smiths. Pushing up his sleeves Thorin starts going through the bucket of ore next to his anvil. It’s a mélange of steel, iron and a few chunks of mithril, left there by his smiths for any project he might work on. 

He sets the mithril aside. It requires a delicate touch, to be properly molded and he isn’t feeling patient enough to work with it, though he does have plans for the metal. Settling on a piece of iron he sets it on the anvil and turns to stoking his forge, absently working the foot bellow. 

When Fíli and Kíli had burst into his study the night before, practically tripping over each other to tell him Bilbo was in Erebor he hadn’t really believed them, thinking Bilbo had decided to remain in Rivendell as he’d obviously been in awe of the Elven valley when they had passed through on their journey. He had shrugged it off, thinking nothing of it until Dís had come to see him, a smile tugging at her lips as she had told him Bilbo was safely tucked into the royal wing. It had taken all his willpower to not seek the Hobbit out that moment, to instead allow Bilbo a chance to rest from his travel. 

By early morning the temptation had been too much and he had given in. It had been perfect, Bilbo barely awake and rumpled, wearing one of his old shirts and it had been impossible to not draw the Hobbit close, to imagine the past year hadn’t happened. 

Taking up a pair of tongs Thorin picks up the iron and thrusts into the forge. He has no idea how old the child is, though his best guess is at least as year as Bilbo had never mentioned a female at home and Bag End had been devoid of anything overtly feminine, besides the doilies. There must have been someone in the Shire Bilbo had been casually courting. 

Once the metal is hot enough Thorin withdraws it from the flames and sets it on the anvil. He knows Hobbits are creatures of pleasure and had taken Bilbo to bed, with that knowledge and he still doesn’t regret it, the brief time he had Bilbo.

Thrusting the half formed lump of metal into the fire Thorin sighs. He’s glad Bilbo’s safe, after reading Elrond’s words about the tragedy that has befallen the Shire but having the Hobbit here is going to be a trial. 

Thorin removes the metal again and sets to work until it bears a passing resemblance to a blade, with a vague hint of a point, but the metal is pitted and the thickness is uneven in places and Thorin drops the hammer in disgust. He learned a long time ago never to work metal while distracted or angry but it seemed to be the best way to try and order his thoughts. He thrusts the blade into the water to quench the lingering heat and then tosses the deformed blade back into the bucket of scraps.

Putting the tongs and hammer back into the rack of tools Thorin shrugs his tunic back on and picks up his coat. He’s hot and sweaty from the work but it wouldn’t do to walk through Erebor half dressed.

By the time Thorin returns to the royal wing it’s after dinner and the others have retired to their rooms. He enters his room and stops. “Am I allowed no peace?”

Dís doesn’t look up from project she has in her lap. “No. Go bathe.”

The hot water does much to remove the knots in his back though he doesn’t linger in the bathing chamber.

Thorin discards the towel he’s using on his hair and settles on the stool near Dís. “How was your day dearest?”

Setting aside her work Dís carefully works a hank of Thorin’s hair free and begins braiding it, fingers working deftly through the dark strands. “As much the same as every day, dealing with the petty needs and simple problems.”

Thorin hands one of the beads to his sister. “A thankless task that I greatly appreciate you taking on.”

Dís fastens the bead and twirls her finger for him to turn. “A task I will continue to perform since you don’t have a consort, who would normally do the job and we can’t seem to pin down my oldest to be responsible for the throne he will one day inherit.”

“He’s earned the right to shirk his duties for a while. They both have.”

Laughing, Dís begins working on the other braid. “They have, but I wish it they could do it without being constantly underfoot and driving everyone to distraction. Perhaps I could have Dwalin burn off some of their energy. Or Master Baggins. I’m sure the boys would mind him.” She tugs on the braid and takes the proffered bead. “Eat.”

Thorin stands and moves to the table where a covered tray rests, his sister always planning ahead. He removes the cover and takes up the still warm roll. 

Dís picks her work back up. “Have you spoken to Master Baggins?”

Picking off a piece of the roll Thorin curses the seemingly linked minds of the two closest to him. “Briefly, this morning, long enough to reassure myself he is safe.”

“Safe but exhausted. It’s a wonder I didn’t have to call guards to carry him up to his room yesterday.” Wrapping her project in the velvet across her lap Dís stands. “I will see you on the morrow.”

Thorin nods. “Good evening Dís.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear, it hasn't been abandoned, things just got really crazy between the last update and this one. I'm not going to make any promises, but I'll try to get the next chapter up in a slightly more timely manner. 
> 
> Much thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.

Crouched in the water of the tub Bilbo scoops water over Frodo’s head. The tub is too big for him to reach over the side to bathe Frodo and this is only safe way to get him clean. The hem of his pants is wet and Frodo is happily splashing with no heed for his clothing, giggling and burbling. He takes the chunk of soap and scrubs Bilbo’s back. “Stop splashing you monster.”

His words seem to invigorate Frodo who just starts splashing more. 

He’s just barely gotten a diaper of Frodo when there’s knocking on the door. Bundling Frodo in the towel he pads to the door and opens it to find Bofur on the other side grinning. “Bofur.”

The Dwarf sketches a bow before stepping into the room. “Feelin’ better?”

Bilbo nods as he juggles a squirming Frodo. “Much.” Managing to get the towel wrapped more firmly around his son he thrusts Frodo into Bofur’s arms. “Hold him while I go bathe.”

Smiling at Bofur’s aborted yelp Bilbo enters his room, pushing down his suspenders and shedding his shirt. He’d been despairing of actually getting a bath but Bofur’s timely arrival was timely. Draining the tub Bilbo quickly replaces the plug and refills it with hot water. As much as he’d like to bask he doesn’t want to leave Bofur with Frodo for too long. There's no telling what kind of havoc he might manage to cause even though he's a little over a year old. 

His worries are allayed when he gets done with his bath. Bofur is crouching on the floor with Frodo in front of him. His son is eagerly reaching for the small metal dragon Bofur is holding out, babbling, pudgy fingers opening and closing. “Was he a problem?”

Bofur looks up and smiles. “Not at all.”

Bilbo smiles as he scoops Frodo up. “Then he can’t be mine. Mine is always a problem.” He catches Frodo’s flailing hand as he reaches for the dragon. “Maybe after I get you in something besides a towel you can see the dragon again.”

As always Frodo resists, but he’s triumphant, tucking his son tightly in the soft Elven fabrics. Balancing Frodo on his hip he reenters the main room where Bofur is still waiting, turning the dragon over in his fingers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Grinning Bofur holds the dragon out to Frodo who eagerly snatches it. “Thought you might like a tour around the place now that we’ve finally gotten rid of the dragon stink. And gotten most of the damage fixed up.”

“That would be great. It would be nice to see Erebor in all its glory without having to worry about being eaten.”

They step out into the hallway and Bofur closes the door before sliding past Bilbo.

Bilbo manages to avoid casting a look at the door to Thorin’s room, though not without effort. He’s going to enjoy his tour with Bofur and not let Thorin or his attitude ruin what promises to be an interesting tour.

They stop just outside the royal wing and Bofur tugs at his moustache. “Got some options. We can go to the library, or the forges. There’s also the throne room or the ramparts.”

“The library.” He’s not sure how often Thorin is in the throne room but he doesn’t want to risk the chance of running into him. That and on the journey Ori had shared stories he’d heard about the great library of Erebor and his interest is piqued.

“Should have known.” Bofur grins and bows deeply, nearly losing his hat in the process.

It isn’t long before Bilbo is thoroughly turned around, all of the hallways starting to look the same, dark green stone with Dwarven designs chasing through. He resettles Frodo more securely on his hip just as they come up to a set of heavy wooden doors that stand open. Beyond he can see massive wooden bookcases and niches carved into the stone, golden plates mounted beneath each cubbyhole. Massive lanterns hang from the ceiling along with ones evenly spaced along the walls. 

There are several dark, wooden tables spread across the room, with high backed chairs pushed close. It looks like there might a massive reorganization movement going on as many of the tables are stacked with books and manuscripts. His fingers itch with the urge to touch the parchment, to inspect the letters there and Bilbo takes a step forward only to be met by Ori who seems to appear out of nowhere. 

“Bilbo!”

Frodo startles at Ori’s voice, fingers clenching around the dragon but he settles when Bilbo kisses his cheek.

Bilbo smiles. Ori looks happy, smiling brightly. His fingers and the hems of his sleeves are stained dark with ink, making it obvious he's been hard at work. “Hello. This looks amazing.”

Ori smiles, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “Thank you. Thorin put me in charge of this after you left. He said it was my reward, in addition to the treasure for coming on the journey.” His smile widens. “And no one else wanted it.”

“It couldn’t have gone to a better person.” Bilbo smiles as the flush on Ori’s cheeks intensifies. He knows Ori had felt out of place on the journey, much as he had, and he’s glad the young Dwarf finally has something he can excel at, without having to compete with his brothers or the rest of the company.

Ori claps his hands. “Oh! Since you’re here I can show you what I’ve been working on.”

He disappears among the shelves in a flash of oatmeal coloured wool and Bilbo glances back at Bofur who is grinning.

Bofur makes a shooing gesture. “Might as well get goin’ after the lad before he leaves us lost among the shelves without any food.”

Hitching Frodo higher Bilbo follows after Ori. The shelves rise above him, burdened with books and scrolls and he can’t help but feel slightly claustrophobic even as he marvels at the amount of knowledge on display. He’s always been proud of his own collection of books, carefully tended but it’s nothing compared to this and he can’t wait to get a chance to start looking through it. 

Ori is standing at a desk against the back wall, moving piles around the desk, obviously looking for something. The desk is a mass of scrolls, books and inkwells. There are at least twelve quills sticking out from all over the desk, making it look like several birds have fallen prey to the desk. 

With a triumphant sound Ori unearths what he’s looking for and bounds over to Bilbo. The book is massive, dark leather banded with iron and a black ribbon hangs from the bottom. Ori turns to stand in front of Bilbo and opens it. It’s written in Khuzdul, the bold black letters marching across the page. He keeps turning the pages and suddenly Bilbo knows what it is, as pictures are interspersed among the pages. 

The trolls, stone giants, and the goblins, each of them cunningly sketched out. Rivendell, Beorn's home and Laketown, dozens of images, nearly popping off the page. Further back there are pictures of all of them, and the dark lines of Smaug spill across two pages. 

Bilbo looks at Ori who is blushing, eyes wide and he smiles. “This is beautiful.”

Ori beams and reverently takes it back. “I started one in Common too, but it isn’t as far along. And I was hoping you could help me. When you got separated from us in the goblin caves and your first encounter with Smaug.”

Bilbo smiles. “I’d like that. I started my own but I didn’t get very far, between Frodo and what happened.”

Ori’s smile falls away and he holds the book to his chest. “I’m sorry that happened. I liked it, the little bit I got to see, since it was dark and everything.”

Swallowing against the sudden surge of sadness Bilbo manages a wan smile. “Maybe someday we can go back. I’d like Frodo to see the Shire.”

Ori nods vehemently. “I’d like to see it too.”

Bofur clears his throat. “Hate to disappear Ori, but we got much more to look at.”

That’s enough to perk Ori up and he smiles. “That’s okay, since Bilbo hasn’t gotten to see it since we cleaned it up.” He reaches out and just barely touches Frodo’s back. “I’m glad you’re here Bilbo.”

Bilbo smiles. “ Don't worry, I’ll be back.”

They spend more timing wandering through the city. Bofur takes him through the massive room where a market has grown, stalls tucked along the sides, the sounds of Dwarves haggling ringing through the air. There are all sorts of goods on display: jewelry and cutlery, dishes, books, clothing and even a few vendors with baked goods and various fruits and vegetables. From there Bofur takes him to where the craftsmen are and Bilbo wants to spend more time watching them work but there’s still so much to see. 

Bofur stops at the end of the stalls and tugs at the end of his mustache. “I think we need to visit the kitchen. I’m hungry and I bet you and the lad are too.”

Frodo shifts and mewls and Bilbo takes it as a hint. “I think you’re right.”

Bombur waves a ladle at them as they enter the kitchen and Bofur guides him to a small table tucked in the corner near one of the massive ovens. “Just a minute.”

He disappears into the swirling crowd of workers before reappearing with a massive, laden tray. With a grin he drops it on the table, the crockery rattling. “Enjoy!”

Bilbo watches as Bombur vanishes back into the mayhem of the kitchens before pulling a bowl of mash close and picking up a small spoon. “He seems happy.”

Bofur nods. “Oh, aye. I thought he was going to burst with joy when Thorin gave him the kitchens. At least I always know where to find him.”

“Where are the others?” Bilbo patiently holds the spoon in front of Frodo’s mouth, waiting for his son to decide whether he wants to eat or not.

Leaning back in his chair Bofur takes a bite of a sausage impaled on a fork. “Bifur’s in the mines, though not the deep ones. Oín’s been trying to get the infirmary back into shape but it’s going to be a long job even with the trading routes we have open. Nori’s taken to doin’ some special work for Thorin and Dori’s still trying to figure out what he’s doing, but right now he’s got something of a tea shop going. Dwalin’s got the task of getting the defenses and troops back together and Glóin has been spending time with his wife and little one. The lads are running rampant, and of course, I’m back to makin’ toys for the little ones.”

Bilbo sets the spoon back in the bowl and pushes it away before settling Frodo against his chest so he can eat. “It seems like you’ve all found your place.”

Spearing another sausage Bofur smiles. “We have. My workshop looked just the way it did the day Smaug attacked, just covered in a layer of dust.” He smiles wanly. “It was kind of unsettling.”

They finish lunch and then Bofur takes him to the ramparts. Laketown is barely visible in the distance, the lake a shining smudge on the edge of the desolation. Dale is a stony ruin closer and Bilbo doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to look at it again without feeling the heat of Smaug's fire on his back again.

Bofur takes him back to his rooms. “Looks like the lad ain’t much longer for the waking world.” He smiles and shakes his head when Bilbo tries to hand him the dragon. “I got a dozen more and Frodo needs some toys, if he’s going to be here for any amount of time.” Bofur bows. “At your service if you need me.”

Shaking his head with a smile Bilbo enters his room and stops. Fíli is sprawling in one of the chairs near the fire deftly running a whetstone along the blade of a wicked, curved dagger. A second, older Dwarf is also in the room, adjusting the drape of swatches of fabric over the back and arms of the second chair. 

“Hello.”

Fíli bounces to his feet and sheathes the dagger in one fluid movement. “Bilbo!” He gestures to the older Dwarf who is watching them, thick fingers plucking at a silken cord draped over his shoulders. “This is the tailor mother promised. She was going to have him here yesterday but thought you might like a chance to rest without interruption. I’m here because he doesn’t speak Westron.”

Smiling Bilbo adjusts Frodo who is mostly asleep. “And he knows about the socks and boots?"

“I told him when he came up here and while he was confused, he understands.” Fíli looks at Frodo. “Is he going to be up for this?”

Bilbo jostles Frodo a little who looks up at him with half closed eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

Frodo remains mostly quiet through the process of being measured, though at the end he begins to fuss. Bilbo manages to soothe him back so sleep and he hands him to Fíli, smiling when the Dwarf carefully cradles him. “He isn’t an orc. Relax.”

Fíli carefully holds Frodo against his chest and sits back down. “At least I’d know what to expect then.” Frodo turns his face into Fíli’s chest, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt before subsiding with a soft sound.

Bilbo sheds his jacket and waistcoat, draping both over the back of the Dwarf’s chair before lifting his arms for the tailor. It doesn’t take long, as the Dwarf wraps the cord around his shoulders, and the widest part of his chest and hips. It’s a little awkward when he takes the inseam of his pants but Bilbo manages to avoid blushing, only because he can feel Fíli’s eyes on him and he doesn’t want to give him anything to tease him about. 

Once the measurements are done the tailor gestures for him to look at the fabric. Bilbo is glad to see most of the colours are the same as what he wears, dark greens, and maroon, even a nice russet colour. There are several dark blue swatches mixed in and when he gestures towards them the tailor points to Frodo and utters something.

Bilbo looks at Fíli, expecting a translation but the Dwarf is staring at Frodo like he’s never seen a child in his life and he doesn’t prod. It probably isn’t important anyway. 

With much gesturing and other hand gestures they manage to agree on colours and pattern. Once they’re done the tailor gathers up his belongings and bows before striding from the room. 

Shaking his head Bilbo moves to the chair Fíli is in and picks his waistcoat up. He slips it on and does up the buttons. “Fíli.”

Fíli starts and carefully hands Frodo back, as though he expects him to start balling at the slightest movement. The moment Frodo is out of his hands he gets to his feet. “We’re having a group dinner tonight. Everyone will be there.”

He’s out of the room before Bilbo can formulate a reply. Bilbo looks down at Frodo who is peacefully asleep in his arms. “I still don’t understand Dwarves.”

\-----

The long table is heaped with food and Bilbo takes a seat in the chair between Dís and Kíli. The rest of the company is already around the table, chatting and drinking, the only chair empty at the head of the table, Thorin nowhere to be found. Frodo, in his lap, is babbling and reaching for the food though he is quickly distracted by the mithril bracelet around Dís’ wrist as she holds a hand out to him. 

The conversation continues on, getting louder and Bilbo has to smile. It’s very much like the first time he met the Dwarves, though he’s sure Fíli won’t be walking on the table, not at the risk of Dís’ wrath. 

“We might as well start eating. No doubt Thorin has been detained again and there is no reason to let the food grow cold while we wait.”

Plates immediately began circling the table and Kíli starts piling food on Bilbo’s plate before handing the dish across to Fíli. Bilbo focuses on feeding Frodo as his plate is filled and once Frodo is full he settles his son against his chest and starts on his own dinner.

“I apologize for being late. The envoy from Laketown seems incapable of taking a hint.”

Bilbo fights the urge to turn at the sound of Thorin’s voice and focuses on the food in front of him as he listens to Thorin enter the room. The footsteps halt beside him and suddenly Thorin is next to him, dark hair falling to touch his shoulder as Thorin leans down to kiss Dís on the cheek. 

He doesn’t move until Thorin is at the head of the table and when he looks up he almost forgets to breath. The heavy silver crown of swept wings, edged in gold on Thorin’s head is elegant and a touch barbaric and it fits him so perfectly Bilbo regrets not being here when Thorin finally got to take his throne. 

“Master Baggins, I trust you found your first night here to be pleasurable.”

Fork jammed in a section of sausage Bilbo looks up to find Thorin watching him, eyes hooded and there’s a flicker of something that falls away, hidden behind the same coolness he well remembers from before the Carrock. “It was very pleasant. Erebor is much recovered under your care.”

A slight, pleased smile curls the corner of Thorin’s mouth and he inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment before turning to the food on his plate.

Dinner continues, with contained fervor. Both Dís and Thorin remain mostly quiet, with faint smiles and Bilbo realizes this is probably the closest thing either of them will have to a family dinner, this oddly mismatched group of Dwarves who fit together in a way few would understand.

Bilbo adjusts Frodo in his arms. He’s asleep despite the mayhem around them and he can’t help but duck his head to kiss the dark curls. When he looks up Thorin is watching him with dark eyes and he squarely meets the Dwarf’s gaze. He isn’t going to back down. He isn’t that Hobbit anymore. 

Thorin looks away first to look away though it’s because Fíli is taking to him and Bilbo rolls his shoulders to ease some of the tension. He knows it would be best to tell Thorin now, before things have a chance to get worse but after yesterday morning he isn’t sure how to even broach the subject without drawing anger.

Servants arrive and begin cleaning away the demolished meal. Bilbo jumps to his feet before anyone else moves, his heavy chair scrapping against the stone floor. “It was delicious but I need to put Frodo to bed.” He just barely manages to sketch a quick bow in Thorin’s general direction. Dís might be lax about protocol but he isn’t going to assume Thorin is.

It isn’t until he’s in his room, door safely shut behind him that Bilbo can feel his heartbeat return to normal. Thorin has always caused that reaction in him and he’s not sure he can be faced with that feeling on a daily basis. 

Frodo shifts in his arms and Bilbo lays him down. He quickly changes him and then takes him into the bedroom, setting him in the cradle. Tucking the blankets under his son’s chin Bilbo bends to kiss his forehead before retiring to the sitting room.

\-----

Dís looks at Thorin as he sets his crown on the velvet pillow. Her circlet is already in her room and they’ll have this row as siblings, not king and princess. “What did you do to him?”

Thorin sheds his coat as he turns to look at his sister. “To who?”

Pinning her brother with a withering look Dís steps into him. “Bilbo. He looked like you were about to throw him out into the wilds. Obviously your encounter with him was not as smooth as you led me to believe.”

“What happened between Bilbo and I is of no concern to you.”

Dís pokes him in the shoulder. “It is, as I am serving as your chatelaine and am responsible for the safety and comfort of our guests.”

Thorin scrubs a hand over his face. “I was surprised by the child.”

“There is more to it than that.” Dís steps back. “Do not think this is over Thorin. I will defend that Hobbit to my last breath for what he did, whether you approve or not.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to reply, sweeping from the room in a flurry of fur and bright jewelry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I have another chapter done, and the fact it took so long is nothing but my own fault. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos!

Frodo is mercifully still asleep and Bilbo takes up the plush house robe hanging from the wall and puts it on, belting it securely as he enters the main room. The fire is banked and he stirs the coals and tosses a log on before sitting in the chair nearest the fireplace. He’s feeling much better after two nights in a real bed, not having to worry about the road and Frodo and he’s with people he cares about. Now the only thing he needs is for Thorin to be okay with this entire situation and the attack on the Shire to have never happened and everything would be perfect. 

Bilbo isn’t sure how long he sits there, staring into fire when there’s a knock on his door. Sighing at the loss of his peace he makes his way to the door and opens it. The tailor is standing on the other side with a horde of younger Dwarves behind him. Bilbo steps back and the Dwarves crowd into the room, all of the younger burdened with armfuls of clothing. 

One of the younger Dwarves edges forward after depositing his armful on one of the chairs. “All of your clothing, as ordered by Her Highness."

Staring at the mass of clothing on the chairs and Bilbo glances at the tailor. “I was expecting it to take more time.”

The Dwarf glances at the tailor who rattles off in Khuzdul before nodding. “Princess Dís wanted it done as soon as possible. We worked all night to get it done.”

“Oh. There was really no rush.” Bilbo shuffles his feet. He appreciates their work but he didn’t want it to come at the expense of the Dwarves not getting any sleep.

The young Dwarf shakes his head. “It was a great honour, to work for the princess and the one who helped us regain our home.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over the amount of gratitude the Dwarves seem intent on showering him with. 

The Dwarves file from the room and Bilbo looks at the piles of clothing spread across the furniture. “Later.”

He shuffles into the bedroom where Frodo is already awake, giggling and cooing to himself. Bilbo leans on the edge of the crib and holds his hand out to his son, smiling when Frodo clutches at his fingers. “How about we eat and go spend the day with Ori?”

Frodo giggles and Bilbo scoops him up. He quickly changes Frodo and dresses him in dark Elvish green before wrapping him in a blanket. Setting him back in the crib Bilbo changes before picking him up and with a last look at the clothing in the sitting room, and a vague sense of guilt about leaving everything strewn around, he’s out the door.

The dining hall is empty but there’s a covered plate on the table and a small stone carafe that’s warm to the touch along with a bottle. Settling into one of the chairs Bilbo manages to fill the bottle and get the top on with one hand as Frodo was trying to wriggle out of his arm. Once the bottle is within reach Frodo closes his fingers around the bottle.

While Frodo is occupied Bilbo removes the cover from the plate. There’s a chunk of pale yellow cheese, several slices of a dark, fragrant bread, two pieces of sausage and an apple, neatly quartered. He eats one handed as Frodo continues to suck at the bottle. Once he’s done eating and Frodo is just chewing on the bottle top Bilbo stands and neatens the stack of dishes. 

Standing in front of the royal quarter Bilbo looks both ways, not quite sure which way to go. After a moment’s deliberation he turns right, remembering coming from that direction when Bofur had brought him back from the ramparts and library. 

Three flights of stairs and five nearly identical hallways later Bilbo is standing on a wide landing between sets of stairs, completely lost.

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo spins at the sound of his name. Thorin is standing behind him, sheathed Orcrist in his hands, hair damp with sweat, shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. “Oh! Hello.”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of Thorin’s mouth. “You appear lost.”

Bilbo shuffles his feet and adjusts Frodo. “I was going to the library and I seem to have gotten turned around.”

Thorin’s smile widens and he slips the scabbard over his head, settling the strap across his chest. “Come, I will escort you to the library. I would hate for you to end up lost in the deep mines.”

Catching Frodo’s waving hand Bilbo smiles as he follows Thorin. His sense of direction isn’t that bad but following Thorin is good and familiar, a reminder of the journey here. He follows Thorin closely, focusing on the slant of the scabbard across the Dwarf’s back and it feels like no time before they’re standing outside the massive library doors.

Thorin neatly turns and steps aside with a low bow. “Master Baggins, until next time.”

Before Bilbo can reply Thorin is striding up a flight of stairs and disappearing through an arched doorway. Unable to keep from smiling he enters the library and makes his way through the library to the back where Ori is already seated, the massive book from the day before spread open in front of him. “Hello Ori.”

Ori bounces to his feet at Bilbo’s words, smiling as he does so. “Bilbo! You got here okay?”

“No. I was lost but Thorin found me.” Bilbo shifts Frodo in his arms as he reaches for Ori, steadying him as he topples forward. 

Ori tugs at the hem of his sweater with one hand as he hesitantly reaches his other hand out to Frodo, smiling when small fingers wrap around one of his. “Don’t worry, I kept getting lost the first month we were here but it’ll get better.”

“I made a little area for Frodo. I thought it would be better than trying to work with him in your lap.” Ori gives up abusing his sweater to point and Bilbo has to turn even as he fights against Frodo who still wants Ori. There’s a nest of blankets inside what appears to be a huge wooden vat with sides high enough Frodo won’t be able to get out no matter how he tries. It looks like there might even be a few more toys tucked among the folds of the fabric and with a smile he sets Frodo in it.

Frodo looks up at him for a moment before giggling and pulling at the blankets. From there he seems to forget them, content to smash the animals against the walls and tug at his nest.

Bilbo and Ori move to the desk and Bilbo takes chair across from the open book. “How do you want to do this?”

Ori sits down and shuffles a stack of papers aside before picking up a quill to look at the tip. “Maybe we should start with when we first got taken by the goblins and go from there. We’re all really curious about how you managed to get away and what happened to you.”

Without conscious thought Bilbo drops his hand to the pocket on his waistcoat where the ring is and he smiles at Ori. “When the goblins grabbed us all, I was the last one and I managed to pull free…”

\-----

Smiling Bilbo carefully picks Frodo up from his nest of blankets, smiling when Frodo snuffles and burrows closer without waking up. They’ve spent the entire day in the library with Ori, their food brought to them. An older female Dwarf had even come up with diapers and had taken away the dirty one away.

It’s been the best day he’s had in a long time, even though he didn’t get a chance to look through the vast amount of knowledge surrounding him. 

Ori closes the book and sets the quill down. “Thank you Bilbo. The tale will be so much better now that we know how you got out of the caves.”

“It was a pleasure.” It was, but there are parts he left out, the ring tucked into his waistcoat pocket, or the power of invisibility it grants. He hadn’t told Gandalf about it and he won’t tell anyone else. It’s his secret, his ring.

Ori rounds the desk. “Do you want me to walk you back to the Royal quarters?”

Bending his head to kiss the top of Frodo’s head Bilbo nods. “It’s too late to spend all night wandering the halls.”

The walk back is quiet, with Ori occasionally sharing bits about the history of Erebor, those who have ruled, the centuries it’s taken to make it into the masterpiece it is now. The arched doorway leading to the royal quarter looms up, the dark green stone reflecting the light from the two massive braziers flanking the arch.

Ori dips his head with a quietly muttered “good evening” before disappearing into the darkness.

Halfway up the stairs Bilbo nearly runs into Balin who is coming down, a sheaf of papers in his hands. “Oh, excuse me.”

Balin smiles and reaches out to touch one of Frodo’s feet, his smile widening with the foot twitches away from his gentle touch. “No apologies necessary lad. A tumble to the stairs won’t hurt these old bones. Did you enjoy your time with Ori?”

Adjusting Frodo against his chest Bilbo smiles. “Yes. It’s amazing how much he’s managed to do in such a small amount of time.”

Nodding Balin rolls up the papers in his hand. “The lad is truly talented when it comes to the written word and we are lucky to have him in our library.” Balin makes a short bow. “Mr. Baggins, Prince Frodo, a good night to you both.”

Bilbo watches as Balin makes his way down the stairs, frozen in place. There’s no possible way Balin could know, but he isn’t the type to play tricks, and the utter sincerity in Balin’s voice was all the proof he needs that the secret of Frodo’s parentage isn’t much of a secret. 

He watches as Balin disappears from the pools of light at the bottom of the stairs and he wants to follow, to get a straight answer but Frodo needs to be in bed. Making up his mind to seek out Balin tomorrow Bilbo returns to his room.

It doesn’t take long to get Frodo settled in for the night, tucked in the intricate stone crib. Sleep for Bilbo is a long time in coming, as he lays in bed, mind racing as he thinks about what might happen, Thorin’s reaction to knowing he has a child, the reactions of the others, wondering if they’ll hate him for withholding the truth of Frodo’s heritage.

\-----

That morning Bilbo can’t bring himself to leave his room, worry making him anxious. Slumped in one of the chairs by the fire he watches as Frodo happily plays with his toys. He does venture out later in the day, but only to get food, Frodo against his chest. The dining hall is empty and he takes his time eating and feeding Frodo, planning as he does.

Bilbo knows Balin will hear him out. The Dwarf has never been anything but kind to him and Balin deserves the truth from him, even though he seems to already know.

Once he’s finished Bilbo stands and with a pang of guilt about the dirty dishes, he leaves the dining hall and returns to his room. As the day drags on Bilbo begins to feel mildly claustrophobic, the green walls and unfamiliar architecture making him long for the open, lightness of Bag End, but he can’t bring himself to leave the rooms, not wanting to run into Balin before he’s ready.

Later, Bilbo gives Frodo a bath, smiling even as his pants are soaked, far above his knees. He dries and swaddles his son, laying him down for an afternoon nap and takes the time to take a long, hot bath, the water up to his chin as he luxuriates in the massive tub.

Dinner is delivered to them by a young male Dwarf who drops his head and informs him the meal is with regards from Her Royal Highness Dís. Bilbo accepts the tray and closes the door, grateful Dís is looking after his welfare since he isn’t doing a very good job of it today.

After eating Bilbo waits another two hours, sitting with Frodo in front of the fire and playing with him, smiling as Frodo burbles and makes sounds, completely content. Finally, when Bilbo has managed to scrape together his courage for the coming conversation he stands and scoops Frodo.

With Frodo balanced on his hip Bilbo leaves his room and pads down to where the guards are standing. “I don’t suppose one of you could take me to Balin’s room.”

The older of the two guards nods and starts off to the left at a brisk pace and Bilbo scurries to keep up. Luckily Balin’s room isn’t far away, the door set in a niche and the guard stops next to the door, bowing briefly before returning the way they’d come.

Taking a deep breath Bilbo hitches Frodo higher on his hip before knocking on the dark door.  
Bilbo shuffles in the doorway when Balin opens the door, adjusting Frodo who is trying to clutch at anything close. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.”

Shaking his head Balin opens the door further. “Nothin’ important lad. Just takin’ some time to myself after spending all day as Thorin’s advisor. Now, take a seat.”

Doing as he’s bidden Bilbo carefully removes Frodo’s fingers from the button he’s tugging at. “How did you know?”

With a sigh Balin tosses another log on the fire before taking a seat in the chair opposite Bilbo. “There are no Carriers among the Dwarves, but I know they happen in other races. As to the rest, when you get to be my age, sleep isn’t as important as it once was. You may have been light enough of foot to keep from waking the others but most mornings I was already awake, and while getting sick in the mornings isn’t common among our women I know it is for others.”

Bilbo offers his finger to Frodo in an attempt to save the buttons on his waistcoat from an inglorious demise. “Do the others know?”

Balin shakes his head, stroking his beard. “No. Unlike our other companions, I have the ability to keep a secret.” Picking his pipe up from the table next to the chair he rubs at the bowl. “Putting aside Thorin’s anger at your decision to leave Erebor, I think it was for the best. We had few enough here with any kind of experience healing and none with skills required to safely handle a male pregnancy. I hate to think of Thorin’s grief had we lost you, the child or both.”

He watches as Frodo chews on Bilbo’s finger. It’s something he almost thought he would never see, Thorin’s child and it doesn’t matter that Frodo is half-Hobbit and will never take the throne. He’s a Durin and Balin could ask for nothing else for him. 

“Did you ever consider-there are herbs-” Balin trails off, unable to finish the thought. It horrifies him that while his people have to fight for every child, there are others who think nothing of terminating the life of a child.

Bilbo shakes his head vehemently, face set in tight lines. “Never. Hobbits love children, thrive on big families. And I know how precious children are to your people.”

Balin reaches across the space separating them, resting his fingers on Bilbo’s forearm. “Thorin couldn’t have made a better choice than with you. You are the type of person every King should have at their side.”

Ducking his head against the flush he can feel staining his cheeks Bilbo smiles. From Balin that is the highest praise possible and he feels warm. “Thank you Balin. Your words mean much to me.”

Smiling Balin sits back in his chair. “You are deserving of the praise.”

Still smiling Bilbo stands. “I appreciate your understanding Balin.” He bows. “Good evening Balin.”

Balin levers up from the chair and walks with Bilbo to the door and opens it. “And to you Master Baggins.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and left kudos.

The next morning Bilbo feels much better about everything and he can’t help but whistle as he gets Frodo out of the crib and changes his diaper before dressing him in the clothing provided by the Dwarves, a tiny pair of pants with a dark blue shirt reminiscent of the colour Thorin and Kíli wear. He sets Frodo back in the crib and changes his own clothing. 

Bilbo scoops Frodo out of the crib, swirling him around and he smiles at the delighted burble it brings out of his son. He pads down to the dining room which is empty except for Dís who is standing by the table smiling at him.

“Good morning Master Baggins.”

Returning her smile Bilbo sits down. “Good morning Your Highness.”

The look on her face at the use of her title is eloquent but calling her Dís when she looks every bit the princess she is, isn’t possible. She’s wearing a pair of short, soft leather black boots that show dark blue pants embroidered with small silver stars. A soft looking white shirt falls to mid-thigh with a blue coat over the top that is buttoned from the base of her throat to her hips, the bottom of the coat sweeping to the sides. The sleeves of the coat are short, falling to the elbow to reveal a finally made mithril chain coat. Her belt is made of triangular pieces of silver, each one inlaid with a small sapphire and a short dagger hangs at her left hip.

Dís’ long hair is drawn back into three long braids, a silver chain wound through each one, a large tear shaped sapphire depending from the end of each. The crown on her head is larger than her normal circlet, bearing the ravens of the line of Durin.

She’s beautiful and Bilbo can’t help the flush that settles on his cheeks because he might be in love with Thorin, but he isn’t unmoved by Dís, despite the fact he’s always been more attracted to other males.

“You look amazing Your Highness.”

Dís shrugs though the pinkness to her cheeks belies her casual dismissal of his compliment. “There is a complement of Men from the South who wish to establish a trade route with us. They requested my presence rather than my brother, assuming I will give them what they want.”

Bilbo laughs as he sets about getting a bottle ready for Frodo. “I have a feeling they’re in for a very rude surprise.”

Dís laughs, the sound throaty. “Yes they are.” Moving to Bilbo she bends to kiss him on the cheek before standing. “I knew Frodo would look amazing in our colours.” She touches Frodo’s curls. “Unfortunately duty waits for no Dwarf.”

She strides from the room and Bilbo smiles. He almost feels bad for the Men. 

Frodo is unusually cooperative and it takes much less time than usual for them to eat. He straightens the table up, stacking all the dirty crockery and bringing it all together before leaving the room. Frodo is a welcome weight on his hip, one hand curled in the fabric of his shirt as he chews on his fingers.

Stepping out of the royal wing Bilbo nods to the two guards and turns in the direction he vaguely remembers coming from with Bofur.

He does find himself in the marketplace Bofur originally lead him threw and he can’t help but smile as he wanders among the stalls. This isn’t all that different from the market days in the Shire and it warms him, to find even a little bit of commonality between his lost home and his new one. Without the guilt of having Bofur trailing behind him Bilbo takes his time to actually look at the wares on display. 

Standing by one booth he drags his fingers over a bolt of cloth, the fabric surprisingly soft under his fingers. The colours are the darker, somber colours the Dwarves seem to favour though Bilbo finds he very much likes the dark green on the top of the pile. 

The Dwarf running the stall smiles and says something, making a sweeping gestures towards his goods. Bilbo nods and smiles. “Very nice.”

He moves to the next stall where there is a menagerie of carved wooden animals. The keeper, a female Dwarf stands while he’s inspecting her wares. He picks up a bear, made of a dark wood, with tiny flecks of sapphire for the eyes. The workmanship is obvious, in the smooth curve of the wood and the details, the little slivers of pale wood for the claws.

With a sigh he moves to set the bear down. He’d love to get it for Frodo but his lack of coins is a hindrance.

The Dwarf shakes her head and points at Frodo. “For the little one.” Her Common is rough but the look on her face is soft as she gazes at Frodo.

Bilbo tucks the bear against Frodo’s chest with a smile. “Thank you very much.”  
The woman smiles and says something in Khuzdul before sitting back down on her stool.

Unable to keep a faint smile off his face Bilbo browses the rest of the row. There are many vendors with pottery and other home items. There are even a few booths that carry items he’s never seen before and he wishes he spoke the language just so he could ask questions.

The last stall in the row has tiers set up, draped with fine fabric to display a vast array of pipes, all beautifully carved of different woods. Under the watchful gaze of the stall’s proprietor Bilbo touches the pipes, wishing he had some coin on him. He hasn’t smoked since before Frodo was born but right now he craves a pipe just because it would be one small bit of normality. 

With a smile the Dwarf bends down and lifts a pipe from behind the others. It’s amazing, the bowl white while the stem is a dark wood, the raised designs chased with gold. The Dwarf holds it out to him, saying something and Bilbo smiles. “It’s beautiful but I don’t have any coin.”

The Dwarf holds out the pipe, his smile bright against the darkness of his beard.   
Bilbo shakes his head. “I can’t take it.”

There’s the sound of booted feet behind him and an arm slips around his shoulders before Fíli and Kíli are next to him, smiling broadly as they lean in to look at the pipe being offered. Fíli pulls Bilbo closer to him and makes a face at Frodo who is looking up at him. “You have to take it.”

“What?” Bilbo watches as Kíli carefully takes the pipe and says something to the other Dwarf.

Kíli accepts a piece of fabric from the pipe maker and carefully wraps the pipe up before tucking it into one of the pouches on his belt. He says something to the Dwarf who nods before turning to look at Bilbo. “Let’s walk and we’ll explain.”

Bilbo lets the brothers guide him away from the stall and they pull him into a small alcove in the wall.

Fíli leans against the wall, thumbs tucked under his belt. “The pipe is a gift. Refusing to to take it would have been a grave offense to his family.”

Clutching Frodo a little closer Bilbo’s gaze falls to Kíli’s belt. “But it’s too much.”

Fíli shakes his head. “You have no idea how much your help to reclaim Erebor meant to our people. They were all convinced no other race would help us. You’ve become something of a legend around here and you wouldn’t believe how fast the news of your arrival spread.”

“Oh.” Bilbo tucks the wooden bear closer to Frodo as he shifts his weight. “I don’t think I’m deserving of the praise but I’ll accept the pipe, only because I don’t want to the be the cause of any troubles.”

Kíli smiles. “Come on. We’ll take you to all the places Bofur didn’t manage.”

\-----

Patting Frodo’s back Bilbo stares into the fire blazing in the fireplace. Despite the fact it’s early summer the room is always a little on the chilly side and he’s taken to keeping a fire going while he and Frodo are in the room.

There’s knocking on his door and Bilbo sets Frodo back in the basket before making his way to the door. He tugs the heavy door open and stops, greeting dying on his tongue. Dís is standing in the hallway, her bearing regal despite the fact she’s not wearing her circlet and is dressed in a robe edged in white fur. “Hello.”

She nods, eyes going to where the basket is just barely visible by the fire.

Bilbo shifts from foot to foot, not quite sure what to do. Despite the fact she’s tried to get him to be more familiar with him he can’t imagine sending her away but she isn’t giving any hints as to the purpose of her visit and he feels silly standing there with the door open and Dís standing in his doorway. Finally he bows and steps back, gesturing for her to enter.

Smiling Dís enters the room. “Thank you Master Bilbo.”

With a nod Bilbo smiles and closes the door. “Ah, not to be impolite my lady, but I find I have to ask why you’ve decided to visit me at such a late hour.”

Dis turns to look at him and Bilbo is struck at how much her look resembles the one he’s earned from Thorin a time or two. “I wish to get a better look at my brother’s son.”

Breath catching in his throat Bilbo watches as Dís leans over the basket. One of her braids falls in and Frodo catches it, tugging at the dark strands. She smiles and reaches out, gently touching a finger to one cherubic cheek.

“How did you know?”

Dís glances at him but doesn’t move far enough to dislodge her hair from Frodo’s grip. “I raised two children of the line of Durin. They have a look about them. And my sons were less than subtle when they told me of what happened between you and Thorin on the journey to reclaim our home. May I?”

Feeling overwhelmed Bilbo nods and can only watch as Dís carefully picks Frodo up, cradling him to her chest as she takes a seat near the fire. Bilbo follows suit, settling in the chair across from Dís, hands folded in his lap as he watches her with Frodo. He knows she won’t do anything to hurt him but it’s been him and Frodo for a year and he’s having a hard time with someone else touching his son.

“Why have you not told my brother?”

Bilbo looks at his hands before looking up. Dís is watching him, her eyes dark in the light and he can’t help but answer truthfully, for him. “I had my reasons for leaving and not letting him know, but those reasons will stay my own.” He frowns. “You aren’t going to tell him?”

Dís shakes her head. “I will not. This is a matter between you and my brother.” She looks down at Frodo, smiling softly. “He is much quieter than my two were, but that is not a difficult task. How have you settled in?”

“Good. Everyone has been very accommodating.”

Stroking a finger along the curve of Frodo’s cheek Dís smiles. “Your presence here has spread cheer to our people. It does good to have all of the company here.”

Bilbo slowly relaxes into his chair as he watches Dís with his son. It’s obvious Dís cares about Frodo despite the fact she’s only known about his existence for a few days and his heart tightens. Now that he’s here and met Dís, the fact he would have kept Frodo’s secret an existence from her makes him feel like the lowest kind of scum. 

Long minutes go by and Bilbo half closes his eyes, content to watch Dís and Frodo together. A tiny, plump fist is still curled around one of Dís’ braids and she’s speaking, in rising and falling Khuzdul, the warmth in her words obvious despite the language barrier.

He watches as Dís stands and disappears into the bedroom, Frodo held close. When she returns her arms are empty and she crosses to him. She leans down and kisses his cheek. “Frodo is tucked in and I suggest you do the same. Your back will thank you.”

With a soft smile Bilbo stands. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You are family Bilbo, as much as the others are.”

Cheeks flushed Bilbo walks with Dís to the door and opens it for her. She smiles and feeling bold Bilbo scoops her hand up and brushes a kiss across the back of her hand. “Good evening Dís.”

Dís' smile is soft. “Good evening Bilbo.”

\-----

“The Hobbit.”

Thorin barely manages to deflect the blow of Dwalin’s axe, thrown off by the two rough words. Dwalin only brings up personal matters when they’re sparring, as if the inherent violence is enough to offset the open discussion of feelings.

Deflecting another of Dwalin’s powerful swings Thorin feints forward, hoping to draw his friend close. “What about him?”

The ploy doesn’t work and Dwalin stabs at him with the top of the axe, frowning. “You know what.”

Disengaging from his friend Thorin steps back, Orcrist held tightly. “You’re as bad as Dís. No, I do not intended to resume my courtship of Bilbo. His return to the Shire made it amply clear he doesn’t see his place at my side.”

Dwalin knocked the haft of his axe on the ground. “And yet he came here when he probably would have been happier stayin’ with the damned Elves. Thick skulled idiot.”

Thorin watches as Dwalin stalks off, muttering under his breath and he knows nothing his friend is saying is polite. Stalking to where he tossed the scabbard Thorin scoops it up and slams Orcrist into it. “My entire family seems to be subverted by the Hobbit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School starts again on Monday so I'll try not to let this fall by the wayside, but unfortunately I can't make any promises.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me longer than it should have to get this chapter done, but here it is. Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.

Leaning against the ramparts Thorin looks out over the stretch in front of Erebor, the lights of New Dale just barely visible in the distance. He’s alone save the guards on either end of the walkway, who had separated the moment he’d set off on the wide path.

“He is miserable.”

Thorin glances at Dís who is watching him, the hood of her cloak casting her face into shadow. “Which he.”

Dís turns to follow his gaze and edges closer. “Bilbo. You have hardly spoken to him since he arrived here and I think he is beginning to regret coming.”

Thorin lifts his arm as Dís presses close and he settles his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. She’s as demanding as she was growing up and he still finds he can deny her nothing, as he couldn’t then. “I have other matters to attend to besides checking to make sure Master Baggins is comfortable every day.”

Turning in Dís pinches Thorin, smiling when he glares at her. “That is hardly a proper way to speak of the Hobbit who helped us regain our home. Especially not the person you would make your consort.” When Thorin doesn’t respond she nudges him. “I think, if he doesn’t feel welcome here by you soon, he may well take Frodo and return to Rivendell.”

That gets a reaction, a barely audible snarl from him and DÍs ducks her head to hide her smile. She knows her brother is on better terms with Elrond than Thranduil but the threat of Elves is a powerful motivator for Thorin.

Thorin sighs. “Fine. I will strive to make Master Baggins feel more welcome.”

Dís smiles and leans into her brother. “That is all I ask for.”

\-----

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo steps back and looks at Fíli. They’re standing on one of the platforms over the deep mines and it’s making him dizzy, to think about how deep the mine goes and what would happen if he were to fall. “Yes?”

Kíli nudges his brother and Fíli elbows him back. “Do you love Frodo’s other parent?”

His sigh ruffles Frodo’s hair and Bilbo holds his son closer. “I do, but there are circumstances keeping us apart.”

Fíli and Kíli share a quick look and then Fíli is catching Bilbo’s elbow, drawing him further away from the railing. “Let’s go get lunch.”

They meet Bofur in the kitchen and he spends most of the lunch laughing at the stories the Dwarf tells, everything punctuated with a waved sausage or a roll that trails crumbs as it get moved around. Even Fíli and Kíli are smiling though there still seems to be a sadness lingering in their eyes and they almost seem to be avoiding looking at Frodo.

Bombur eventually joins them, bringing a massive cake over, and despite the amount of fun they’re having Bilbo can see that Fíli and Kíli are withdrawn, despite the fact both of them are smiling. He hates seeing them like this and he wishes he knew what he could do to help them. After lunch Fíli and Kíli walk him back to the royal wing.

Stopping outside the door Bilbo adjusts Frodo’s limp weight in his arms. “Thank you. It was better than being trapped in my room all day.” His words bring the faintest smiles to their faces and then they bow before disappearing into Fíli’s room.

\-----

Frodo is asleep in the bedroom and Bilbo stretches his feet out towards the fire, wiggling his toes against the warmth. It had been a good day, though Fíli and Kíli’s quietness at lunch is still picking at him. 

Someone knocks on his door and Bilbo gains his feet with a smile. He’s had more visitors in the short time he’s been here than in the last two months in the Shire. Opening the door reveals Thorin and he can feel a flush spread across his cheeks. “Good evening.”

A faint smile tugs at Thorin’s mouth and he holds up a small leather bag with a delicate clasp. “My nephews told me you were gifted with a pipe and knowing them, they forgot to procure a bag of pipe weed for you.”

Bilbo accepts the bag, warmth spreading through his body at the brief brush of Thorin’s hand against his. “Thank you. I hadn’t realized gifts were so important to Dwarves.”

“They are, especially when it is the product of one’s own hands. For Húriln to have you accept his gift will bring great honour to his line.”

Holding the bag close Bilbo smiles. “So Fíli and Kíli said. I hope to enjoy it soon.”

Thorin sketches a low bow. “Sleep well.”

Bilbo doesn’t close the door immediately, watching as Thorin disappears into his own room.

\-----

The knocking on his door can only mean one thing and Balin heaves himself out of his chair. Sure enough when he opens the door Fíli and Kíli are on the other side, both looking distraught. Stepping back he gestures the princes into the room and they immediately seek the chairs near his fire. He turns to look at them and they look so young, so unsure in the light of the fire, and it hurts. 

He’s long been the advisor to the House of Durin, from Thrór and his son to Thorin, Frerin and Dís and while Fíli and Kíli have always known he’s available for counsel this is the first time they’ve sought him out. Usually they seek out their mother or uncle and Balin can’t help but wonder why they’re here. Gathering his robe Balin sinks back into his chair. “Okay laddies, what can I do for you?”

Fíli and Kíli glance at each other, communicating without words like they do and Balin waits until they both look at him. Fíli is the one to speak. “Frodo…we, I mean-”

Kíli leans forward. “Bilbo is Uncle’s chosen! We all saw them on the way to Erebor and after we reclaimed it. How could he do that to him, go back home and take up with a woman and have a child! He should have stayed here with us, with uncle.”

Sighing Balin leans back in his chair and strokes a hand down his beard. He isn’t really surprised by this. The cultural differences between Dwarves and Hobbits are vast and there’s no reason the princes wouldn’t be confused by what they’ve seen. “We should have had this talk earlier. Hobbits and Dwarves, we’ve got many differences between us, beyond the physical. What’s normal for us isn’t so for them-.”

Fíli and Kíli are leaning towards him and Balin hides his smile. He loves a captive audience. “We have our chosen while Hobbits are much freer with their affections before they marry so it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Bilbo doesn’t realize what he means to your uncle.” Tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair Balin shifts his gaze to the fire. 

“Bilbo also has the unusual gift of being a carrier.” He doesn’t say anything else, waiting for the princes to remember this lesson. He’s done his best over the years to teach Fíli and Kíli what they need to know about the other races of Middle Earth but they’ve always been more interested in the martial side of their upbringing and there are days he feels like it’s been a waste.

It takes some time, both of the princes thinking and then Kíli jerks upright, knocking his chair to the floor where it lands just inches from the fire. “Frodo is uncle’s child!”

Fíli watches as his brother rights the fallen chair, face pensive. “Why did Bilbo leave? He should have known uncle would have welcomed a child.”

Balin tugs at his beard. This is one thing he loves about the princes, that even after everything they’ve been through; they still retain a brightness of spirit. “I’m quite sure Bilbo had his reasons for returning to the Shire, but it’s in the past and all that matters now laddies, is he’s here now, safe with Frodo. Now, neither of you will breathe a word of this conversation to Thorin. This is a matter between he and Master Baggins.”

“And if I hear any rumour that this passed your lips to anyone, I will tell your mother.”

As usual the threat to involve Dís has both of the princes looking a little wild eyed and Balin can’t help but smile as they both bolt to their feet and bow before leaving his room, casting looks back him. With a cackle he closes his eyes as the heat from the fire washes over him. It’s good to be the royal family’s advisor.

\-----

“Fíli, Kíli.”

His nephews freeze and Thorin frowns as he approaches him. They’re both wearing familiar looks, the ones he’s seen a thousand times when they’ve done something they know he’ll take issue at. “What are you two doing?”

Fíli straightens up as Kíli hides something behind his back, both of them attempting to look innocent and failing miserably. “Uncle! We were just, um, getting a present for Frodo.”

He looks at them expectantly and they both evenly meet his gaze though Kíli shuffles a little. They’ve gotten better at withholding information from him as they’ve gotten older but they still know it’s a battle they’ll never win. Kíli cracks first, holding out what he’d been trying to hide.

Thorin frowns as he stares at the spinner. It is beautiful, bright crystals encased in gold and mithril, hanging from various lengths of delicate chain, all suspended from a mithril rod. Spinners were usually gifts from the oldest male relative and Fíli and Kíli have no reason to be making one.

Kíli smiles. “We figured they didn’t have a chance to get anything from the Shire and really, Frodo shouldn’t grow up without one. We thought this would be a nice gift for him.” He holds the spinner out and Thorin takes it, inspecting the work.

Neither of his nephews is particularly skilled at blacksmithing, though Fíli is an excellent hand at jewel crafting and Kíli is extremely talented at working wire for settings and other projects. The spinner, while not playing to either of his nephews’ strengths is still a remarkable piece of work and Thorin hands it back to Kíli with an approving nod. “Excellent work.”

Both of them grin widely and Thorin can’t help but feel a little guilty. He’s always worked on the assumption that his nephews know how proud he is of everything they do, but every time he verbally praises them seem to glow. He needs to do a better of job of praising the boys.

Reaching out Thorin rests his hands on their shoulders and squeezes. “I’m sure Bilbo and Frodo will appreciate the gift.”

Fíli carefully wraps the spinner in a piece of soft, dark leather and ties the thong closed. “We hope so. Do you want to come with us to give it to him?”

Thorin shakes his head. “I’d like to but I have some matters to discuss with Balin and the council that aren’t going to wait.”

The boys bolt off into the crowd and Thorin shakes his head. It’s a wonder he doesn’t hear more complaints about them bowling over everyone in their path. 

\-----

Bilbo isn’t surprised when the door to his room bursts open with just a precursory knock before Fíli and Kíli practically fall into the room, their excitement palpable as they grin at him. He’s come to the conclusion that he should probably get used to them bursting in so he sets his book aside and stands. “What would your mother say if I told her you came bursting in here like that?”

Fíli grins. “She would forgive us if she knew why.”

Kíli slips past his brother to move to the cradle. With ease he removes a stone plug from one curved corner and reaches under the cradle to remove a thin, rod with a crook on the end. Frowning he fights with the rod and with a little grease from somewhere and no little cursing he manages to get the rod in the hole. He winks at Bilbo and pulls a leather wrapped package from the inside of his coat.

Undoing the leather thong holding it closed he carefully unrolls the leather. He holds it out to Bilbo who barely gets more than an impression of delicate wires and stones before Kíli is carefully untangling the wires before hanging it on the hook. “Perfect. It looked good, but it’s so much better hanging up.”

Bilbo flicks the biggest stone, setting the spinner moving. The firelight catches the stones, sending sparkles of light around the room and Frodo giggles, one little hand reaching for it. “It’s lovely, but I can hardly accept such a marvelous piece of work.”

Fíli rests his hand on Kíli’s shoulder and smiles. “It’s a gift and it’s the least we can do for our little cousin.”

Eyes narrow Bilbo glares at the brothers. This is just the type of thing they would think is funny, trying to get a rise out of him. And he would think that was their plan, if not for the earnest look in their eyes, the smiles, honest and bright and he can’t deny them. 

Running his fingers over the longest rod Bilbo sighs. “How did you figure it out?”

Kíli grins. “Frodo’s about the right age from when you left Erebor and Fíli and I did some fast thinking and math. Wasn’t hard to draw lines between everything.”

Fíli elbows his brother. “And we talked to Balin.”

Bilbo deflates and rests his hand on Frodo’s chest, taking comfort from the steady rise and fall. “So you know.”

They both nod and Fíli’s smile softens. “We aren’t going to say anything to Thorin. Balin wouldn’t be happy with us.”

Kíli elbows his brother. “It’s not Balin I’m worried about but mother. She’d have us down with the deep miners before we managed to say anything else.” 

Bilbo can’t help but smile. Thorin may be the King Under the Mountain but it seems everyone fears Dís’ wrath more than his. “I appreciate you two keeping it to yourself.”

Fíli smiles. “We know how difficult Thorin can be and we’ve kept secrets from him too.” He steps forward and touches Bilbo’s forearm. “You don’t have to worry about him hearing from us.”

Bilbo can only smile as he touches the spinner, starting it turning and they all smile when Frodo giggles and reaches for the moving stones. Living in Erebor is getting easier.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a chapter, though it isn't very long. The next one should be longer now that school is over for the semester. Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.

“Good morning Bilbo.”

Bilbo descends the stairs into the dining hall, Frodo against his chest. “Good morning Dís.” He takes a seat to the left of where Dís is sitting, not commenting as she stands to start getting a plate together for him and filling a bottle for Frodo. He’s come to the realization that he’s never going to manage to talk Dís out of anything she wants to do.

He smiles when Dís sets the plate in front of him. “Thank you.”

Setting the bottle down Dís reaches out to touch Frodo’s cheek, causing him to giggle. “You are welcome. May I take Frodo?”

His heart clenches at the thought though Bilbo knows Frodo is just as safe in his aunt’s arms as in his. Bowing his head he presses a kiss to Frodo’s curls before looking up at Dís and he can see the understanding in her face. “Yes.”

Frodo doesn’t fuss when Dís picks him but immediately reaches for the large silver necklace around her neck. She laughs and diverts his attention with the bottle that pudgy fingers curl around. “Of course you like precious metals.”

As he cuts into his sausage Bilbo keeps an eye on Frodo and Dís. He can’t help the sudden upwelling of anxiety, as irrational as he knows it is. Frodo is just as safe in Dís’ arms and his and he has no reason to worry.

“What are your plans for the day?”

Bilbo takes a drink of his cool spring water before answering. “I had thought to go to the library. Ori wants more help with his chronicle of our journey and there are a number of books on the shelves I’m interested in looking at.”

Dís smiles as she feeds Frodo. “Ori will be glad to have you. He’s been doing much of the work in the library himself as the others have been focused on the rest of Erebor.” She gently strokes Frodo’s cheek. “Would it be terribly forward of me to ask if I might have Frodo to myself while you’re in the library?”

He wants to say no but he knows it isn’t healthy to cling to Frodo in such a way. And he should be able to trust Dís, should be able to trust any of the Company with his son. 

Picking up his knife Bilbo starts cutting the sausage into smaller chunks. “Of course.”

“You don’t have anyone to fear here Bilbo. Anyone of us would give our life to protect your son.” Dís’ voice is heavy with promise and Bilbo nods and continues to stare at his plate. He doesn’t want it to ever come to that but he knows the Company and how strongly they feel about each other. 

When he finishes breakfast Bilbo pushes his plate towards the middle of the table and stands. Frodo is asleep against Dís’ chest and he stops briefly to touch his son’s cheek before smiling at Dís. He leaves the dining room and has to keep from looking back, because if he does he’s going to not want to leave, no matter how safe he knows Frodo is.

By now, despite his propensity for getting turned around in Erebor’s halls, he can make it to the library without getting lost. The size of the room still thrills him and Bilbo drags his fingers along the edges of the shelves as he makes his way towards the back of the room where Ori’s desk is. He wants to start reading everything but he hasn’t seen much in the entire library that’s in Common.

Climbing the stairs Bilbo makes sure to scuff his feet against the floor to alert Ori to his presence. He’d gotten in the habit of doing so after the first few times he’d come to the library and had startled Ori, leaving the Dwarf panting and twitchy for the next hour. Not that Bilbo can blame him because there are days when someone sneaks up on him he can’t help but remember the Journey and when things sneaking up on them meant something bad was going to happen.

Ori looks up from the book on his table. “Good morning Bilbo.” He frowns. “Where’s Frodo?”

Bilbo takes the seat across from the desk that seems to have become his. “He’s with Dís. She offered to take him for the day and I couldn’t resist the chance to look around without having to worry about him escaping his nest.”

Smiling Ori leans back in his chair. “Okay.” He gestures to a stack of books on the corner of the desk. “I found these for you. They’re a history of our people, in Common, and some things that might help you learn Khuzdul but I can’t promise that, since we’re so protective of our language. You might need one of us to teach you, which I’m sure any of us would be willing to do.”

With a smile Bilbo stands and pulls the pile of books towards him. “Thank you. I’ll start with these and see where we end up.”

Opening one of the books Bilbo settles deeper into the chair. They spend the morning in comfortable silence, only speaking when 0ri has a question for his book or Bilbo needs something clarified.

Dori and Nori join them for lunch and they clear everything off the desk, which Ori watches with obvious worry, especially when Nori has any of the books on hand. The tray they’ve brought up is massive and piled with food, taking up most of the desk and leaving very little room for their plates.

Nori leans forward to look at Bilbo, a smile curling his lips. “I’ve got good news for you, about the Shire.”

Heart picking up in pace Bilbo leans forward. “What is it?”

“Not only have the Elves been helping to clean up after the attack, but the Men of Bree are also helping, cleaning up and bringing in supplies to help rebuild.”

Bilbo smiles. He’s chatted with Men at the Prancing Pony the few times he’s gone to Bree and they’ve always been kind. “How do you know that?”

Nori leans back in his chair with a smug smile. “I have my contacts, as part of my work helping Thorin out. Every monarch needs someone to keep track of all the information coming in.”

Laughing Bilbo takes another apple from the bowl. “I’m glad he has you.”

Dori pours more tea for all of them. “We owe Thorin. He’ll never have to worry as long as we’re all here.”

The other two Dwarves nod and Bilbo feels warmth pool in his stomach. This is the family he never had back in the Shire and he isn’t sure how he ever managed to leave them behind. 

\-----

Thorin enters the dining room to find Dís at the table, Frodo resting against her chest, swaddled in a dark blue blanket embroidered in silver along the edge. He sits in the chair next to her, eyes on the tiny Hobbit. “Why is it everyone around me is taken with the little Hobbit?”

Dís ruffles her fingers through Frodo’s hair. “It must be something about Hobbits and Dwarves. Do not think Fíli and Kíli didn’t tell me how taken you were with Bilbo.” She leans forward and hands Frodo to Thorin, smiling when his arms fold awkwardly around the small body. “It has not been that long since you held a little one.”

Thorin looks down at Frodo, who is barely awake, mouth pursed, eyes hooded. “Long enough since Kíli was this small.” He shifts and touches a calloused finger to the curve of Frodo’s cheek. The little one mewls and turns into the touch, mouth seeking his finger, latching on and sucking with surprising power.

“Where is Bilbo?” 

Dís sets the laden plate in front of her brother before retaking her seat. “In the library. It was a call he couldn’t resist, especially when I offered to take the pebble for the day.”

Thorin looks between the plate and Frodo before glancing at his sister who smiles. “You have eaten and managed Kíli before. Surely a wee Hobbit shouldn’t be a problem.”

“He is certainly quieter than Kíli.”

Dís laughs and takes a roll from the basket on the table. “Most younglings are.”

It’s been nearly eight decades since he last held a child but it only takes a moment for his body to remember how to cradle the small body and still be able to get to his plate. “I take it you have decided to take the day off from your duties.”

Smiling at her brother Dís pulls her roll apart. “I am allowed to do as I please, and spending the day with such a happy child seemed like a better choice than dealing with the petty squabbles of our nobles.”

“A fact for which I apologize. I should be more involved in settling such matters.” Thorin stabs a potato with his fork.

Dís butters the roll and leans over to rest her hand on Thorin’s forearm. “You’ve been busy trying to return our home to its former glory and I can deal with a few greybeards who are upset because someone tread upon their honour.” She smiles. “You look good with Frodo in your arms.”

Thorin looks down at Frodo who is watching him with blue eyes. “I have missed the feeling.” When his nephews had been younger he’d loved coming home and sitting with Dís and her husband in front of the fire, Fíli and Kíli warm, heavy weights against his chest. “Though I doubt it is a feeling I’ll get to become familiar with again.”

Fingers twisting a piece of roll off Dís smiles and Thorin can’t help but think the gesture is secretive. “Perhaps you will get a chance again.”

Frodo shifts against his chest, small hand clutching at the front of his shirt and Thorin looks down, forgetting his sister’s words.

\-----

Bilbo accepts Frodo from Dís, kissing her cheek as he does so. “He wasn’t a problem?”

“Of course not. After raising my sons Frodo was a breath of fresh air.” She touches Frodo’s cheek. “We spent much of the day up in my workshop and he slept through much of it.”

Lips curling into a smile she brushed a kiss across Bilbo’s cheek. “Watching my nephew will never be a hardship. You had a good day with Ori?”

Bilbo clears away the annoying tickle that’s settled in the back of his throat. “Yes. Dori and Nori joined us for lunch and dinner and I fear we didn’t get much done.”

Dís laughs. “Those two are rather distracting.” She bows her head to kiss Frodo’s cheek. “Good evening both of you.”

Smiling Bilbo turns to go to his room. He changes Frodo and sets him in the crib before filling the large tub. He’s been feeling off since dinner and he hopes sometime soaking in hot water with some herbs will ease the pain gathering behind his right eye and the tickle in his throat. The water is almost too hot but Bilbo sinks into it up to his chin and closes his eyes, the heat seeping into his skin. 

He doesn’t move until he’s in imminent danger of falling asleep and with a reluctant sigh he reaches forward to drain the tub. The heat has helped but he still feels off and he climbs out of the tub, reaching for the towels close to the tub. 

Thick towel in hand Bilbo quickly dries his hair and body before pulling on a thick night shirt. Tossing the towel in the basket in the corner he slips back into the bedroom and extinguishes the candles on the table next to the bed before slipping under the covers.

He pulls the blankets up and burrows into the thick mattress and pillows, closing his eyes and hoping he feels better in the morning.

\-----

When Bilbo wakes his head is pounding and breathing hurts. His ears are stuffy and he can vaguely hear Frodo burbling from the crib. Getting out of bed is a chore and by the time he’s dressed and has Frodo ready for the day his vision is swimming and he feels dizzy. 

The walk to the dining hall seems to take forever and the last step down makes him wobble. Dís looks up from her food and she immediately gains her feet, crossing to him in a few quick steps. Her hand touches his forehead and Bilbo leans into the cool touch. “Mornin.”

Dís frowns and steps back, one hand catching his elbow. “You need to go back to your room. You’re hot.”

He doesn’t have the energy to argue and if he didn’t feel so terrible he knows he would be mortified about the way he’s leaning into Dís, letting her bear most of his weight. Once in his room he lets Dís take Frodo and push him in the direction of his bed and he doesn’t even bother with removing his clothing before he climbs under the covers, drawing them up to his chin. 

From where Dís is standing at the foot of the bed she frowns as she adjusts Frodo in her arms. “Rest while I go find Óin.”

Bilbo nods and closes his eyes and it feels like hours have passed since he heard Dís leave the room. It takes effort to open his eyes and when he does Óin is leaning over him, frown visible through his mustache and then he’s looking back at Dís who nods.

Dís disappears again, leaving behind Óin who starts pulling things out of his basket, muttering to himself as he begins mixing things.

Bilbo shifts under the blankets and pulls them closer to his body as a chill races through his body. It isn’t long before Óin hands him a small stone cup and he downs the concoction inside without trying to argue. He learned not to question him on the journey and despite the foul taste that whatever it is will make him feel better.

A troop of Dwarves come into the room, burdened with bundles of wood while a few are carrying ewers. Dís reappears behind them and begins giving orders to the Dwarves, directing them with ease of long practice. More Dwarves come in carrying several more blankets they layer on the bed and two more begin building a fire.

They file out of the room and Bilbo lays back, watching through slit eyes as Óin continues to mix and hand him things to drink.

Óin leaves a few pots and bottles on the bedside table before going over to Dís. Their conversation is short before he leaves with a backwards glance at the bed.

Dís approaches the bed with Frodo on her hip. She rests a hand on Bilbo’s forehead. “I’m going to take Frodo with me while the sickness runs its course. We don’t know whether or not he can catch it due to his heritage, but I think it best we don’t risk it. Óin and I will check in with you every few hours.”

Nodding makes his head ache and he settles back in the bed. Whatever Óin gave him is kicking in and keeping his eyes open is becoming difficult. “Okay. Be careful.”

Bilbo is barely aware of Dís kissing his forehead before he drifts off.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter and I apologize for the fact we seem to be getting nowhere fast, but the plot developments don't seem to be working with me. Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and left kudos.

Feeling like he’s going to die from the heat Bilbo tosses his blankets aside and stares at the far wall. The only light in the room is coming from the fireplace and the light is casting odd shadows in the room that reminds him of the few times he’s worn the ring he found in the abyss of the Goblin caves. 

He reaches under the pillows on the bed, to where he hid the ring and he falls back asleep with the edges of the ring digging into his palm.

\-----

The sounds of whispers wake Bilbo and he bolts upright, the ring still clutched tightly in his hand. His room is empty, and the whispers continue, deep and masculine, in a language he can’t understand. He looks around the room but he’s alone and he hunkers down, eyes darting around the room.

It seems like with each breath the whispers continue to get louder and Bilbo is half convinced he can hear Gollum in the background and he shivers. The voices reach a crescendo and then die away, leaving Bilbo in silence save for the snaps and crackles of the fire.

He slips further into the bed and draws the blankets up his chin and it’s a long time until he falls asleep again.  
\-----  
Pausing as he enters the room Thorin scans the occupants. Fíli and Kíli are flanking their mother, smiling widely as she feeds Frodo. Bilbo is nowhere to be seen and Thorn moves to join his family. “Where is Bilbo?”

Dís looks up from her task. “He’s taken ill and I thought it better Frodo not be overly exposed to the illness. Óin has already seen to him and we’ve been checking on him every hour. There doesn’t seem to be any danger of the rest of us getting sick.”

Thorin ruffles Frodo’s hair before moving to sit. “A wise choice. I’ll check in on him before I head to the council meeting.” He turns to look at Fíli and Kíli. “Dwalin has informed me you’re both due to spend some time in the training yard with him today.” 

Fíli and Kíli exchange looks and Thorin smiles. “None of that. I know you both enjoy the time spent with Dwalin, even as you complain about it.”

Both of them smile and stand, bending to kiss their mother before shuffling out of the room.

Shaking her head fondly Dís returns to feeding Frodo. “There are days I’m convinced Dwalin never had children because he sees those two as his.”

Thorin takes Fíli’s abandoned seat. “As they should have been. There is nothing the council could say now. He is a member of the Company.

Dís slants look at her brother. “I do believe you were going to check on Bilbo before your meeting with the council.”

Knowing he’s pushed the matter as far as he can Thorin stands and inclines his head in Dís’ direction as he leaves the hall. He usually doesn’t mention the feelings Dís and Dwalin have long held for each other, out of respect and love for them both, but he’s tired of them being miserable and dancing around each other.

The door swings open on the silent hinges and a wave of heat rushes over Thorin. There’s a fire going in the massive fireplace and the heat is stifling. Thorin makes his way into the bedroom, where the smell of herbs and other salves is heavy in the air. The bedroom is even hotter and he wonders if they haven’t managed to cook the Hobbit to death.

Bilbo is curled on the near edge of the massive bed, just his head visible over the edge of the furs and blankets. His hair is a tangled mess and his cheeks are painted with an unhealthy flush. Crossing the room Thorin rests his hand on Bilbo’s forehead and frowns at the heat. When Dís had said Bilbo was sick he had expected something like the cold their wild ride in the river had produced, not this raging fever.

He looks at the bedside table and he notes the various bottles and stone jars before turning back to look at Bilbo. 

There’s a murmur and Thorin watches as Bilbo turns into his touch without awakening. He would prefer to linger until Bilbo woke, but the council was awaiting him and he didn’t want to be the cause of any rifts. They still have a lot of work to do until Erebor regains even a sliver of their production capabilities and he can’t leave his people alone now, even for the sake of the Hobbit who helped them so much.

With a last, lingering caress Thorin reluctantly pulls away while making a mental note to speak to Óin about Bilbo as soon as he can.

\-----

Bilbo leans back against the headboard of his bed, eyes closed. This is the first time in he isn’t sure how long that he hasn’t felt like death. Nothing hurts anymore and while he feels a little like the edges of the world are a little soft, it’s better than the way he felt even yesterday, and the odd voices haven’t reoccurred. He knows it’s been a couple of days since he took sick though he doesn’t know the exact count. 

The outer door of the suite swings open and he isn’t surprised when Óin appears in the doorway to the bedroom, looking his normally taciturn self. “How are you feeling?”

Stretching Bilbo smiles at Óin who has his ear trumpet up. “Much better. I don’t feel like I’m in danger of falling over dead.”

Nodding Óin sets his trumpet on the table and begins removing the lids from bottles, adding various powders to a small metal goblet before pouring water over the top. He stirs it briskly with a thin metal rod before holding it out. “Drink all of it down.” 

Bilbo takes the cup from Óin and drinks it down. He feels better, the aching pain gone, and he can breathe again. He hands the cup back to the Dwarf. “Thank you.”

Óin nods as he repacks the cup back into his basket. “You’ll be fine, as long as you don’t push yourself. And I don’t see any reason you can’t be around your little one again. I think Thorin’s been watching him today.”

“Oh.” He can almost blame the catch in his voice on the sickness but his pulse quickens at the thought of Thorin with Frodo. 

Óin leaves the room and as much as Bilbo wants to go find Thorin he knows he needs a bath first. His clothing is sticking to his skin and he wrinkles his nose because he can smell the stale sweat clinging to the fabric. He swings his legs over the bed and slowly slips to the floor, stumbling a little as he stands.

Walking to the bathroom is a task and Bilbo leans heavily against the tub as it feels, taking deep breaths. He wrinkles his nose and removes his clothing, tossing the soiled garments into the corner of the room. Goosebumps breakout across his skin and Bilbo climbs into the tub, sliding under the water for long moments before resurfacing.

The hot water feels amazing but as much as he’d like to linger he wants to see Frodo and he quickly scrubs his hair and body with the soap and a cloth. Draining the tub he climbs out and scrubs his skin clean with a towel before shrugging on a heavy, warm robe. Quickly dressing he heads for the door of the suite and finds he has to rest halfway there, taking a seat in one of the chairs by the fire. 

The moment he feels the shaking subside and his legs feel stronger Bilbo seeks out Thorin, wanting to reclaim Frodo. This is the longest time besides the day Dís had taken him he’s ever been separated from his son and it makes him nervous, even though he knows he wouldn’t have been able to take care of Frodo in the state he’d been in. 

He enters the dining hall, one hand on the wall to protect against any spells of weakness. This morning it’s only Fíli, Kíli and Bofur, all of them with plates piled high on the table. Bilbo takes a piece of bread from a stack, nibbling at the crust. “Where is Thorin?”

Kíli points back the way he’d come with a sausage on his fork and Bilbo frowns. “A pointed sausage does me no good.”

Laughing Bofur stabs a chunk of potato. “Rest easy. Last I heard he was in the throne room, your wee one sound asleep in his arms. If you give me a mere moment to eat I’ll take you there.”

Finishing the bread Bilbo grabs another slice. It’s the first thing he’s had besides broth in days. “No. I know where I’m going so stay and enjoy your breakfast.” He knows how long it takes Bofur to eat and he wants Frodo back in his arms now.

Snacking on the other piece of the bread Bilbo makes his way through Erebor. He gets lost much less often now, having grown accustomed to the long hallways and massive steps that make up the fortress. The Dwarves he passes all nod to him and he can’t help but smile as he nods back. He’d never imagined he’d be welcomed in Erebor like this but none of the Dwarves have been anything but courteous.

The long hall leading to the throne room is devoid of guards and Bilbo slips into the room through the partially open doors. The cavernous room is silent and he carefully picks his way to the dais, smile widening as he does.

Thorin is slumped in the massive throne, eyes closed, Frodo resting in his arms, the pale blue blanket in stark contrast to the fall of Thorin’s dark hair. Moving slowly Bilbo climbs the stairs and stops, a pang of longing running through his body.

This is how it should have been, Thorin on the throne with Frodo, tiny body cradled against his chest, and a warm feeling settles in the pit of Bilbo’s stomach. This is an image he’ll never forget, that’ll he cherish until he passes on, because it will never happen. 

“Hobbit.”

Bilbo starts at the sound of Thorin’s voice. Thorin is watching him and he steps forward, compelled by the dark gaze. Despite Thorin’s aloofness he feels like they’re finally close to falling back into what they once had and he wants it with a fierceness that startles him. Wants, it but at the same time knows it can never happen. 

This is the reason he left to begin with, so his relationship with Thorin wouldn’t cause any problems. Thorin has struggled and sacrificed, almost died to regain Erebor, and he never wants there to be any doubt, that the throne belongs to Thorin and Fíli after him. 

Thorin holds Frodo out and Bilbo gently takes him, dipping his head to press a kiss to dark curls. He feels whole now and he looks up, smiling at the Dwarf. “I take it he hasn’t been a problem?”

Shaking his head Thorin lounges in his throne. “He’s slept most of the day and been easy to soothe when things bothered him.” He smiles. “He makes Fíli and Kíli look like raging monsters.”

Standing Thorin looks at Bilbo. “Do you feel up for a walk? I have something I wish to show you.”

Bilbo settles Frodo against his chest and nods. He’s tired of staring at the walls of his room and trooping through Erebor is a better option, even though he has a feeling he’ll be regretting it later. He turns and starts back the way he came, Thorin matching his stride. 

They start down a long hallway with a slight upward slope, such as the one they first entered Erebor so many months ago. At the end Thorin pushes a switch and the door swings outward, leaving Bilbo blinking hard against the sudden daylight. He steps outside with Thorin close behind and looks around. 

Around them a ledge spreads out, not unlike the one where they found the door, though this one is more protected by the great stony folds of the Mountain. It looks like there’s been some work done, dirt added to some rough-hewn stone beds and Bilbo turns to look at Thorin. “What’s this?”

There’s a slight smile pulling at the corner of Thorin’s mouth. “An idea I had while you were sick. I know you miss your garden at Bag End, and I doubt an oak tree will grow up here, but there are plenty of hardy mountain plants that will grow.”

Bilbo shivers, and he’s not sure if it’s from the sudden rush of wind or the fact Thorin had thought to do this from him. A warm weight settles across his shoulders and he turns his head slightly, the fur of Thorin’s coat tickling his cheek. “What?”

“Dís will have my hide if I allowed you to get sick again when you’ve just barely recovered.” Thorin smiles. “There are several of my people who have a knowledge of the plants around here, including Óin and they all know you will be seeking them out.” He gestures towards the door. “Why don’t we go back inside? I fear you might be turning blue.”

Catching at the edge of Thorin’s heavy coat with his free hand Bilbo pulls it tighter around himself and Frodo. He had been okay but now that Thorin has mentioned it he realizes just how cold it actually is. Hunching his shoulders he shuffles back towards the door, Thorin a wall of warmth down his back.

Thorin ushers him back into the dining hall and into one of the chairs. There’s a tureen of soup on the table, over a small brazier on the table as well as a small teapot, wisps of steam rising from the spout. Thorin pours a mug of tea and drops in a healthy dollop of honey before handing it to Bilbo.

Hand curling around the warm mug Bilbo ducks his head to kiss Frodo. His son coos and giggles, fingers curling into the fur edging the coat. Bilbo swallows hard and raises his head to look at Thorin. “Thank you.” He gestures to the room. “For all of this.”

Thorin pauses with a ladle in one hand, the lid for the tureen in his other, the smell of the stew filling the air. “You never need to thank me for any of this Bilbo. You are part of the Company and everything Erebor has to offer is your right.”

Bilbo can feel heat rushing to his cheeks and he glances aside. Thorin’s honesty is a twisting knife and he can’t meet the clear blue gaze, without feeling a surge of guilt. 

“Óin had said you were feeling better.” Dís pauses at the base of the stairs, eyes narrowing as she takes in Thorin’s coat still around Bilbo’s shoulders. “Where did you take him?”

Thorin sets a bowl of stew in front of Bilbo and pulls out a chair for his sister. “Up to the ledge. We weren’t up there long.”

Dís sits next to Bilbo though she doesn’t relent in the dark look she has leveled at Thorin. “If he gets sick again, I’ll take over running the kingdom and you can nurse Bilbo back to health.” She leans in and kisses Bilbo’s cheek. “I am glad to see that you upright.”

“And as much as I would like to stay, I have a matter to attend to, so I leave you to my brother’s tender care.”

Thorin shakes his head with a small smile as he sits down with his own bowl of stew. “I think my sister has decided she likes you more than me.” He smiles at the blush on Bilbo’s cheeks. “It is a good position to have. Eat. From what Dís has said, you’ve had little enough to eat over the last few days.”

Bilbo adjusts Frodo against his chest and dips his spoon into the stew. It’s thick with meat and various vegetables and Bilbo eats two bowls of it before he starts yawning. He stares longingly at the tureen but is afraid if he has another bowl he would fall asleep in it and drown.

Standing Bilbo moves to remove Thorin’s coat and is halted by an upraised hand and a smile. Thorin shakes his head. “I’m in no hurry to get my coat back. I have more than I need, but the tailor keeps sneaking more into my wardrobe.” 

“Thank you.” Bilbo sketches a bow.

After lunch Bilbo retreats back to his room. He changes Frodo and settles him in the crib and sets the spinner turning, throwing spots of light across the room. With careful fingers he removes Thorin’s coat and hangs it in his wardrobe, fingers lingering on the fur. Shedding his coat and vest he drapes them over the foot of the bed before pushing down his braces, pants pooling on the floor. He climbs into the bed and draws the blankets and furs up.

The walk through Erebor has exhausted him more than he’ll ever admit, but it was worth it, to get to spend time with Thorin and Frodo, like a real family.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep hoping I'll get better at more timely updates, but I'm starting to think I'll have to keep imagining what it would be like. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.

As he dresses Bilbo can’t help the way his gaze is drawn to where Thorin’s coat hangs in the wardrobe. He knows he should return it to Thorin, as it’s been hanging in the wardrobe for nearly two weeks and even though Thorin has sought him out several times, he’s never once even thought about returning it. He knows he’s acting like a love-struck fool and it’s embarrassing.

Tugging at the hem of his sleeve Bilbo scoops Frodo up and nuzzles his cheek. “Let’s get some food.”

Dís is the only one in the dining hall, though from the state of the plates it looks like at Fíli and Kíli have been through, if not a few of the others.

She smiles and gestures to the seat next to her. “Good morning.”

Returning her smile Bilbo sits down and laughs when Frodo reaches for Dís, chubby fingers wiggling. “Good morning.” Balancing Frodo he reaches forward and manages to draw the small tureen of warm cereal close. He removes the lid and picks up the small spoon, dipping it into the creamy mixture. 

Dís butters a roll. “There’s a fete tonight, in your honour.”

Bilbo pauses in feeding Frodo a spoonful of warm cereal. “Why?” 

“Because the council thinks it is only fair as you didn’t remain for the one when you originally helped reclaim Erebor.” She smiles. “And don’t think about trying to sway their decision. The stubbornness of the council would have stopped that damned pale orc in his tracks had they been here.”

Biting back on his words Bilbo scoops up more warm cereal. “I don’t need a fete. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

“Yes, well you can appeal to the council, but I’m sure, after traveling with my family, you can understand how difficult a Dwarf can be to sway.” Dís smiles. “I think we both understand it will simply be easier for you to accept the party with grace and dignity and complain about the stubbornness of Dwarves afterward.”

Setting aside the spoon to pick up an apple Bilbo grins. He’s coming to like Dís more and more every day. 

\-----

By the time Bilbo arrives at the hall where the fete is taking place, the room is already packed with Dwarves. He stands in the doorway, Frodo in his arms, not quite willing to just dive into the gathering. Frodo is awake, staring at the crowd of Dwarves with a hand stuffed in his mouth, the fingers of his other hand clutching at his coat.

The crowd parts in a sweep of low bows and Dís emerges in a cloud of silver and dark blue, wearing her heavy coronet etched with the ravens of Erebor. She smiles as she bends her head to kiss Bilbo’s cheek, fingers brushing across Frodo’s curled hand. “You both look handsome.”

“I feel underdressed now that I’ve seen the others.” His brown vest is embroidered with gold and the buttons on the burgundy vest are all worked gold, but everyone in the room is dressed in a wealth of velvet, furs and rich leathers, with golden and jeweled bobs visible on many of them. 

Dís glances over her shoulder. “I for one, find your modest garb much more pleasing to the eye. Some of them are as bad as magpies, collecting every shiny thing they see, no matter how garish or ugly it really is.”

She gently brushes her hand over Frodo’s curls. “May I take him?

Smiling Dís takes Frodo from him and brushes her nose across his cheek. “Come pebble, I have some ladies I need charmed.” She kisses Bilbo’s cheek again. “Thank you.”

Watching as Dís disappears with his son in her arms Bilbo tugs at the hem of his coat as he looks at the wall of Dwarves. He’s always been good at social situation and this is nothing new. After spending 30 months with the Company, he can manage a night with this many Dwarves.

\----- 

Bilbo nods as he sketches a bow and steps back from one of the Dwarf lords from the council. By now he’s spoken to all of them and they’ve all been kind, and profuse with their appreciation over his role in the reclaiming of the mountain. None of them had been interested in his protests, so he’d just settled for smiling and nodding and saying he was happy he could help them, which is an understatement because the look on Thorin and the other’s faces, when they’d realized Erebor was theirs again had been priceless and he’d never been so happy as to see that. 

Looking around Bilbo realizes he hasn’t seen Dís since she scooped Frodo from his arms and while the room is crowded, Dís is a beacon and she should be easy to find. He begins moving among the Dwarves, looking for Dís, when he spots Dwalin’s head over a huddled group.

Bilbo sidles along the group of gathered Dwarves until he comes to Dwalin’s side. “Have you seen Dís?”

Dwalin shakes his head and muffles a belch in his fist as he looks at his tankard. “Not for a while. Why?”

Standing on his toes Bilbo tries to catch a glimpse of the princess but between the sheer number of Dwarves in the long hall and the fact that everyone in the room has inches on him, it’s impossible to see beyond his immediate surroundings. “She has Frodo.”

“Not anymore she don’t. Last I saw he was safely tucked in his father’s arms.”

Dwalin winks at him and Bilbo forces his body to relax because of course the big Dwarf knows Thorin is Frodo’s father. Balin probably told him which is fine, because he can’t really have honestly expected Balin to keep such a secret from his brother.

Dwalin’s hand comes down on his shoulder, rocking him forward and Bilbo just   
barely manages to avoid pitching forward into the nearest group of Dwarves. “Don’t worry lad, your secret is safe with me.”

Nodding Bilbo moves away just in case the Dwarf decides to reassure him again. “Thanks. I’ll just be off to see if I can find Thorin then.”

He doesn’t find Thorin but he does end up bumped into a corner where Bofur, Bifur and Bombur are sitting in a haze of pipe smoke with a loaded down tray on the floor at their feet. 

Bofur raises his pipe in greeting. “Havin’ a good time?”

“It’s been extremely interesting. Have you seen Frodo? Dwalin said he was with Thorin.”

Bifur mumbles around the bit of his pipe and his cousins both nod.

Bilbo looks at Bofur. “What did he say?”

“Just that it’s only fair Thorin take him for a while since you’ve been raising Frodo alone.” Bofur recoils at the look Bilbo levels at him, waving his free hand. “No need for that! I didn’ tell either of them. They figured it out themselves.”

Bombur waves the chunk of bread in his hand towards the other side of the hall. “Last I saw Thorin he was over there.”

“My thanks.” Bilbo looks over the gathered Dwarves, not really relishing diving back into the fray when there’s a tug on his sleeve. He turns back to find all of them smiling at him. 

Bofur sketches a seated bow. “We won’t tell Thorin.”

Bilbo smiles. “I appreciate it.”

He stumbles into over there with an elbow from a whirling dervish of a Dwarf to find himself face to face with Dori, Nori and Ori, all three looking a little out of place even on the edges of the big gathering. 

Ori is tucked on a bench between his brothers and he bounces to his feet with a wide grin. “Do you want a family portrait?”

Nori and Dori grab his sleeves, dragging him back down between them and Bilbo doesn’t even have to ask if they know. “How did you find out?”

Nori has the grace to look ashamed before grinning. “I might have overhead certain princes talking.”

Bilbo huffs out a laugh. “I’m kind of surprised the entirety of Erebor doesn’t know by now.” 

Nori reaches over Ori and nudges Dori in the shoulder. “And no one will hear it from any of us. Thorin’s over there, your little one clinging to him like lichen.”

Pressing between two Dwarves Bilbo finds Óin and Glóin. They smile at him and Óin points, past another wall of Dwarves while Glóin winks at him and Bilbo just smiles. He doesn’t need to ask if they know, not after talking to everyone else.

Bilbo slips through the gathered Dwarves and stops dead. Thorin has Frodo on his hip, one tiny hand wrapped around one of his braids as Frodo sucks on the fingers of his other hand, wide blue eyes staring at the Dwarves. He can’t help his smile at scene in front of him, the quiet perfection of Thorin and Frodo together. 

Thorin’s gaze settles on him, his normally sharp gaze softening, lips turning up in a ghost of a smile, as he holds his hand out. Bilbo joins him, unable to resist the quiet summon and knowing turning down a king isn’t a good idea. Frodo giggles around his fingers before reaching out and Bilbo takes him, smiling when a sticky fist touches his cheek.

“I’d thought you had vanished.”

Bilbo touches his nose to Frodo’s cheek. “I spoke with Balin for a bit and then was caught up by many who wished to thank me for my part in retaking Erebor. And then of course, I found myself in the company of, well, the Company.”

“Many of my people would have had me send a grand caravan for you when they learned of your importance in defeating Smaug and returning Erebor to us.” Thorin’s gaze sweeps over the other occupants of the room, all who have pulled back to provide them with a modicum of privacy.

Bilbo feels a flush creep over his cheeks. The promise of one fourteenth of the treasure hadn’t really been the motivating factor behind leaving; it had been the promise of adventure, a chance to reclaim what he had been as a young Hobbit, before he’d become overly concerned about what others thought about him. 

And in the mountains, after the stone giants he had stayed to give Thorin and the others a chance to regain their home, and now Erebor is his home too, and while he appreciates the adulation the Dwarves heap on him every day he didn’t do it for the recognition. He did it because it was the right thing to do.

Thorin’s hand settles on his shoulder, warm even through the layers separating them and he meets his gaze. “I have been remiss, Master Baggins, in telling you how grateful I am for your assistance in reclaiming Erebor.”

Bilbo ducks his head, pressing a kiss to Frodo’s cheek. “I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Thorin squeezes his shoulder. “Let us hope it never comes to that.”

One of the assembled Dwarves clears his throat and Bilbo flushes, glancing at the Dwarf. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

The Dwarf in question is nearly as big as Bombur with a long, pristine white beard, forked and oiled with gold bands sectioning the hair. “No apologies are necessary Master Baggins. We are all indebted to you.”

A younger Dwarf edges forward. “Is it true Hobbits live underground?”

Bilbo glances up at Thorin who looks amused, the faintest hint of a smile twisting his lips. The hand on his shoulder tightens and he takes it as support. “We do, but it’s nothing like Erebor. Hobbits are creatures of comfort and our holes are designed as such.” 

As he talks more and more Dwarves gather around and soon he finds he’s answering questions, waiting patiently for Thorin to translate. It feels wrong; to have a king translating for him but Thorin doesn’t seem to mind and the crowd in front of them looks enraptured, eyes wide as they listen. The questions continue on, as the crowd continues to shift and move, changing faces and shrinking as Dwarves disappear from the room.

\-----  
Thorin is a line of warmth down his back and Bilbo closes his eyes, cheek resting against Frodo’s soft curls as he listens to Bofur. The gathering has dwindled down until it’s just them that had recovered Erebor and Dís. The benches have been moved to the middle of the room and they’re gathered on them. Bofur is recounting their encounter with the trolls, managing to make it sound more amusing than it really was and Bilbo smiles. 

“And Kíli is yellin’ about how he’s got the biggest parasites ever!”

Dís laughs and Bilbo slits his eyes open. The princess is opposite him, Fíli and Kíli on the floor at her feet, one hand resting on Kíli’s head as she strokes his hair. Bilbo can’t help the way his smile widens. It’s easy to forget some days, that Fíli and Kíli are technically older than him, but still practically children by Dwarven standards. 

Bofur continues and Bilbo closes his eyes again, leaning back into Thorin’s warmth. He feels him shift and rough fingers are brushing against his neck and he knows he should sit up but Thorin feels good against his back. Drowsing he listens as Balin takes over from Bofur and he must drift off for a little while because suddenly someone is gently shaking him. 

Bilbo blinks to find Thorin leaning over him. “Wha?”

Thorin’s gaze is soft and he cups Bilbo’s elbow, urging him to his feet. He stumbles a little and Thorin steadies him with a soft smile. “The others have retired for the evening.”

Sure enough the room is empty, short of Dís, Fíli and Kíli who are lingering near the door, talking. “Oh.” He yawns and idly rubs at Frodo’s back, smiling at the soft mewl as Frodo shifts in his sleep. 

His eyes feel like he can’t keep them open and he pads over to join the others, Thorin a half step behind him. Dís smiles as they join her, one hand coming up to brush across Frodo’s cheek. 

Bilbo smiles and steps out of the room, Dís and Thorin following him as Fíli and Kíli squirm past them.

Fíli and Kíli are ranging ahead of them, disappearing into the pools of shadow between the braziers lighting the main thoroughfare of Erebor, before circling around behind them like a pair of puppies learning to herd. Thorin and Dís are on either side of him, talking over his head in Khuzdul and Bilbo is content to simply listen.

They enter the royal wing and Dís stops in the middle of the hallway, between her sons’ doors. Grinning Fíli and Kíli duck their heads, kissing her cheeks before disappearing into their respective rooms. With a soft smile she approaches Bilbo and leans in, touching her fingers to Frodo’s cheek. “Such a precious pebble.”

She cants her head and Bilbo takes the hint, brushing a kiss to her cheek. Dís kisses him before stepping back. “Master Baggins, Thorin, good evening.”

“Good night.” Bilbo watches as Dís enters her room, leaving him and Thorin alone in the massive hallway. Things have been better between them lately since the trip to the garden, Thorin actively seeking him out, to share quiet time smoking or, oddly enough ask his opinion on matters of rule.

Thorin steps in and Bilbo doesn’t move, breath coming shallow as he looked up at Thorin. There is a rarely seen openness in his gaze and he stops breathing when Thorin’s mouth brushes across his in a kiss so light he can almost believe he imagined it.

“Good evening Bilbo.”

Bilbo watches in a daze as Thorin retreats into his room and he stumbles towards his own room. He’s been craving a return to their former intimacy but he doesn’t know how to get there, with the secret of Frodo making him feel guilty every time he entertains the idea of approaching Thorin. He enters his room and pads through the darkened suite to the bedroom. He changes Frodo and dresses him in a warm, heavy nightgown. “Your da is confusing, to say the least.”

Settling Frodo into the crib he draws the blanket up and leans down to kiss Frodo’s plump cheek. “Good night Frodo.”

Blowing out all but one of the candles in the bedroom Bilbo ducks into the bathing room and cleans his teeth. He’s still reeling from the kiss and the guilt is gnawing at his stomach.

Bilbo sheds his clothing and picks up the nightshirt on the foot of his bed. He wiggles the soft shirt on and climbs into the bed. Blowing out the candle he settles back into the pillows, drawing the blankets up.

Sleep is a long time in coming.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thanks to everyone for being so patient with this update. School is done so my goal is to keep the update time a little shorter than I've been managing lately. Second, big thanks for everyone who has left comments, kudos and read. Third, this chapter gets even more AU.
> 
> Enjoy!

Fully dressed Bilbo steps out of his room with Frodo in his arms, and just barely manages to avoid looking down the hall towards Thorin’s room. He’s still reeling from last night and it seems easier to simply avoid the matter than try to think about it. Repression has become a close friend. 

Bilbo turns and jumps as Fíli and Kíli are standing behind him, both grinning. “What?”

Fíli gently catches his shoulders and turns him in the direction of the arch leading from the royal wing as Kíli moves to flank him, fingers tickling over the bottom of Frodo’s feet. “Gandalf is here.”

Unable to keep from smiling Bilbo allows the brothers to guide him out of the royal wing and down the stairs leading to main hall of Erebor. He’s missed Gandalf since being in Erebor and has wished several times there was a reliable way to contact the wizard but Gandalf is like the wind, coming and going as he pleases. 

Gandalf is perched on the seat of a small covered wagon and Bilbo lets Fíli plow a way through the gathered crowd of Dwarves, following behind with Kíli right behind him. They stumble into a clear area around the wagon and Gandalf looks down with a smile.

He climbs down from the seat and leans on his staff. “Bilbo, I see you and Frodo are doing well.” He glances over his shoulder at the wagon. “I’ve come from the Shire and brought some precious cargo.”

Bilbo reluctantly lets Fíli take Frodo as he rounds the end of the wagon with Gandalf next to him. “What did you bring?” He can’t imagine what Gandalf would have found in the Shire so precious to haul across wild country in a wagon with no protection besides his magic.

Climbing up on the back of the wagon Bilbo gently folds back the cover and pauses. There are three bundles tucked against the wall, comfortably held in place with blankets and pillows. The faces are familiar and it takes but a moment to place faces to names and he turns to look at Gandalf. 

Gandalf’s smile is sad. “Their parents were killed during the raid and their families were unable to take them in light of the work needed. Bringing them here seemed the best, as Frodo will need friends his age when he gets older.”

“It seems Erebor has become a refuge for Hobbits.”

Bilbo turns at the sound of Thorin’s voice. He and Dís are standing on the edge of the gathered crowd, both dressed in the dark blue and silver of their house, their crowns catching the light from the chandeliers above them. They’re striking together and it’s obvious how much the people of Erebor adore them, from the way the gathered crowd is watching and smiling.

Thorin smiles. “The Hobbits will be fostered with my most trust advisors and grow up with all the privileges entitled to them through such association.”

Bilbo can’t help his bemused smile when Dís climbs up on the back of the wagon and reaches in to withdraw Sam. She mumbles something and kisses his forehead before handing him down to another Dwarf woman. Merry follows Sam into the waiting arms of another before Dís hops down from the wagon, Pippin held close to her chest. 

He takes Frodo back from Fíli, watching as the young Dwarf makes his way to his mother to look at Pippin in her arms.

Holding Frodo close he makes his way over to Thorin who is standing alone as he watches his sister cradle Pippin. “Thank you for taking them in. I know you have no reason to do so.”

Thorin looks down at him, a shadow of a smile tugging at his mouth. “I owe my home and life to a Hobbit. I think that is reason enough to take in three more, after what befell them at home. No child should have to worry about such danger.” 

Warm heat settles in Bilbo’s stomach and he smiles, stepping closer to Thorin. “Thank you. I’ll never be able to repay you for everything.” 

Thorin’s smile widens and his gaze softens as he reaches out to touch Frodo’s cheek. “Returning our home to us has absolved you of any debt you feel you might owe us.”

Bilbo inclines his head, well aware that it isn’t a conversation to pull out, though he doesn’t agree with Thorin. He doubts he’s ever going to get over feeling indebted to Thorin and the others but he occasionally knows when to give in.

“If you will excuse me Bilbo, I have matters with which I need to speak to Gandalf about.” 

Smiling Bilbo steps aside. “Of course.”

\-----

Bilbo holds the plate of pastries out to Gandalf and sets it down on the small table after the wizard takes one. “I am glad to see you.”

Gandalf smiles. “And I you. I can see Erebor has been treating you kindly.”

Glancing down Bilbo fiddles with the gold buttons on his waistcoat. Lately it seems he’s been wearing more and more of the clothing provided by the tailors and less of the small amount of clothing he’d managed to take with him from Bag End. He can’t put the reasoning into words, mostly because he doesn’t want to admit to why. “They have.”

“Have you spoken to Thorin?”

Bilbo jerks his head up to look at Gandalf and sees nothing but kindness in his blue eyes and he sighs, sinking back into the chair. “Our relationship is mending, though I still haven’t found a way to tell him about Frodo.” He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I can’t help but think it might widen the rift between us so far I won’t be able to cross it again.”

Gandalf nods as he stares at the fire, pipe in one hand though no smoke rises from the bowl. “Or you might find your honesty is what you need to finish mending the gap between you, caused by your return to the Shire.”

He follows the wizard’s gaze, though he can’t say he agrees with the words. Yes, Gandalf has known Thorin for longer than he’s been alive, but after the journey, Bilbo can’t help but think this is one time the Wizard might be wrong. “Perhaps I will soon find some time to speak to him.”

It’s a lie, and they both know it, but Bilbo is grateful when Gandalf doesn’t call him on it.

\----- 

Gandalf leaves three days later, slipping out in the morning and Bilbo spends most of the day with Merry, Sam and Pippin. He lets them crawl all over the floor with Frodo, and he and the attending Dwarf women can’t help but smile. It’s obvious the three are being well cared for, and not just because Thorin placed upon them the responsibility, but because they cherish younglings, no matter the race.

Wandering back towards the royal wing Bilbo tucks Frodo closer to his body as a small fist clutches at his shirt. He nods to the two Dwarves standing guard at the entrance and starts up the broad stairs, slipping into his room at the top.

The fire is already going, easing the constant chill of Erebor and Bilbo sits in one of the chairs. He carefully peels Frodo’s hand from his shirt and rests Frodo on his legs, back down, and Frodo is grinning up at him, small fingers curling around his. 

Bilbo blows out a breath and tickles Frodo’s feet. Frodo wriggles, and makes odd cooing sounds. As much as he appreciates Dís and the others for taking Frodo and giving him some much needed alone time, he wouldn’t give up time alone with his son for all the treasure in Erebor. 

They remain that way a long time, until Frodo begins yawning and Bilbo figures it’s about time for both of them to get into bed before they spend the night in the chair.

He bathes Frodo and carefully dries him in a large towel before putting on a diaper and pulling a soft, dark night shirt over his head. Smiling Bilbo tucks Frodo under a blanket, gently pushing back dark curls. “You look more like Thorin, than me, but hopefully you haven’t picked up his stubborn streak.” He gently tweaks Frodo’s cheek. “I don’t know if I can handle you being as stubborn as your da.”

He starts talking about Thorin and doesn’t stop until his voice has gone hoarse and Frodo has long since fallen asleep. Tucking the blanket a little tighter around Frodo, Bilbo goes to perform his nightly ablutions.

\----- 

Sitting in a chair Thorin watches as Dís feeds Sam. It’s an achingly familiar scene and he again wished he’d been around more when his nephews had been growing up, but the needs of the people has outweighed his need to watch Fíli and Kíli grow. He knows he’s going to regret it until he passes into the halls of his ancestors but there’s nothing to be done about it. 

“I’m sorry you couldn’t have more.”

Dís looks at him strangely and Thorin knows his sister thinks he’s an idiot for mentioning it.

Her smile is soft, as she tickles Sam’s foot. “I was lucky to be blessed with the two I have, and I doubt any of us would have had the patience to deal with a third after Fíli and Kíli.”

Thorin returns her smile. “No, I doubt we would have. Speaking of, where are my nephews?” They’ve been skipping some of their lessons with Dwalin and while their reason usually isn’t bad, they need to stop shirking their duties quite as often. He knows he’s been enabling them since they retook Erebor but it’s past time for Fíli and Kíli to begin learning what it takes and means to rule.

Dís moves Sam to rest against her chest, one hand spread across his back. “In the city with Frodo. Bilbo is helping Ori with his project and the lads agreed to take the pebble for the day. It seems to have helped them feel more responsible.”

Nodding Thorin stands. “I’ll seek them out. I have some matters I need to speak with them about.”

“I’m sure they won’t be difficult to find.” Dís smiles as she adjusts Sam in her arms.

Gaining his feet Thorin leans down to kiss his sister’s cheek before making his way out of the royal wing.

The pathways of Erebor is bustling and Thorin makes his way through the halls to where he’s sure his nephews are. Sure enough, as soon as he enters the district he can hear Fíli and Kíli’s voice, rising above the din. Shaking his head he makes his way towards them. With as loud as his nephews are it’s a wonder more orcs didn’t find them as they made their way to Erebor. 

Frodo is sitting on Fíli’s shoulders, fingers tangled in his hair, giggling as Kíli tickles his feet. Thorin approaches the trio, unable to keep from smiling. It’s been a joy to watch Fíli and Kíli with Frodo, the way they light up when the little Hobbit is around, how they seek him out and have taken it on their shoulders to remove some of the burden off Bilbo. 

Blue eyes go wide and Frodo releases his grip on Fíli’s hair, reaching towards Thorin. “Da!”

Shock freezes Thorin, heart high in his throat and he swallows because there is no possible way… 

But Fíli and Kíli look guilty and suddenly it makes sense, everything that has been going on since Bilbo and Frodo arrived in Erebor. Frodo wearing his colours, the way Fíli and Kíli dote on him, Dís’ knowing looks and comments, the soft curl of Bilbo’s mouth when he takes Frodo.

He looks at Frodo again and frowns, anger curling hot and ugly in his stomach. Bilbo has been here for months and has kept this secret from him. Hands curling into fists his looks at his nephews. “You’re dismissed.”

Fíli and Kíli share a stricken look and Fíli pulls Frodo into his arms. They bow and disappear into the crowd with a final, lingering glance.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter before things start getting more deep and hopefully longer. Thanks to anyone who has read, left kudos or a comment.
> 
> Enjoy.

Vision tunneling Thorin spins on his heel and heads towards the training grounds where he knows Dwalin will be, terrorizing a batch of new recruits. The path to the grounds passes in a blur and Thorin steps into the grounds where Dwalin is bellowing orders, the younger Dwarves looking like they’re ready to brave the Mirkwood in order to get away from Dwalin. Orcrist is in his rooms but he snatches one of the swords from the rack. The weight is close enough to Orcrist’s and it will work. 

He storms towards his friend and Dwalin turns, voice trailing off. The younger Dwarves look between him and Dwalin, and Dwalin dismisses them with a wave of his hand. “Don’ be thinkin’ I’m done with you yet.”

The younger Dwarves trail out of the grounds, all of them keeping their eyes forward, not looking at either of them. Thorin knows some kind of rumour will be swirling around Erebor shortly but it won’t matter. The populace of Erebor is on his side and he could probably dance naked under a full moon with a chicken in his arms and they would merely think he was odd.

He brings his sword around in a slash that Dwalin easily parries with his blade. They’ve been sparring together since they first held weapons and he can rely on his friend to match his every move and keep up with him. 

Adjusting his grip on the sword Thorin brings his sword down in a vicious two handed downward slash that Dwalin knocks aside with a quick flick of his axe blade.

Dwalin blocks and turns his thrusts aside, ducking and weaving around blows but never taking the offensive, forcing him to burn energy. He knows what it takes to wear Thorin down and he isn’t going to try and talk to the other Dwarf until Thorin is a little more amenable.

Sweat dripping down the side of his face Thorin lunges forward, only to have dodge aside and his sword blurs in a backswing, only to have the blade turn aside against the metal wrapped haft of Dwalin’s axe.

Dwalin disengages and steps back, planting the butt of his axe against the cobblestone. “What’s got you all bent out of sorts?”

Hand clenching around the handle of his sword Thorin sighs and turns to face the other Dwarf. “Frodo is my child.” He can see the truth in Dwalin’s dark eyes and he frowns. “You know.”

“Aye. Bilbo didn’ tell me. I figured it out myself and you need to be talkin’ to him about the matter. Ain’t my place to share.” 

Fingers curling tighter around the handle of his sword Thorin stares at his friend. He loves Dwalin like a brother, and has for centuries, and there have never been secrets between them, until now. Stepping forward, he isn’t surprised that Dwalin’s only action is to stand straighter. His friend is impossible to intimidate. “And you thought that was good enough reason to keep the knowledge from your king?”

Dwalin shrugs. “Ain’t my king I was keepin’ it from but my friend who’s got a well-known tendency to get ideas in his head and run with them, payin’ no never mind to what the others think or feel.”

Thorin will never admit it, but Dwalin is right. It had been his idea that had nearly gotten Fíli and Kíli killed on Raven Hill and only Bilbo’s timely arrival had saved them. He owes Bilbo for so many things, and to find out about this. 

He fixes the other Dwarf with a dark look before turning on his heel and striding out. He tosses the sword back on the rack, his anger surging. He relies on Dwalin to have his back, to support him and now to know that Dwalin knows the truth of Frodo’s parentage…

Stalking through the halls toward the forge Thorin is vaguely aware of the way his people are moving out of his way, many with worried looks. The path to the forges is ingrained into his memory and he stews as he walks. If Dwalin knows there is no doubt in his mind that Balin also knows as the brothers never keep anything from each other. 

And if Fíli and Kíli know than there is a good chance others know and it does nothing to ease his anger. To think, that those closest to him have been lying to him. 

The smell of the forges overwhelms him and Thorin crosses to his private corner. There’s already a pile of metal next to his anvil and provides a safe outlet for his rage. 

\-----

Pacing the length of Fíli’s room, Kíli glances at the doors. “Do you think we should go tell Bilbo that uncle knows?”

Fíli shakes his head. “Thorin is already angry at us and we don’t need to make it worse. Bilbo will be okay. He’s dealt with uncle before.”

Kíli isn’t entirely sure he agrees with his brother’s assessment, but he doesn’t want to rock the boat anymore. It’s going to get worse before anything gets better, and hopefully it won’t end up with Bilbo leaving again.

\-----

Shoulders aching, Thorin tosses the ruined piece of metal on the pile of scraps next to his forge. The pile is higher than it should be, but it was all scrap, ruined to assuage his anger, though his anger is far from gone. The forges around him are quiet, save a few where some master smiths are still working. He tosses his hammer on the anvil and leaves, his anger a coil of heat in the pit of his stomach. Erebor is quiet around him and it gives Thorin time to think, which just makes him angry again.

To think, his family and closest friends, along with the person he loves have been lying to him.

Thorin stops in front of the doors to Bilbo’s room, hand curling into a fist. He longs to storm into the room and demand answers but he knows letting his anger get the best of him will only lead to disaster. Bilbo won’t break, not after facing Azog and he doesn’t want to drive Bilbo back to Rivendell.

Shaking his head Thorin goes into his room. 

\-----

Scooping up another spoon of warm cereal Bilbo glances at Fíli and Kíli. They seem on edge, with a hunted look in their eyes and he’s curious about what has them so upset, but Frodo is swinging his hand around and if he doesn’t focus he’s going to end up wearing the cereal. 

“Good morning.”

Bilbo turns at the sound of Thorin’s voice and smiles. “Good morning.”

Fíli and Kíli mumble a good morning, before they stand and slip out of the room with a quick glance back before they disappear. 

Fending off Frodo’s hand Bilbo dips the spoon into the cereal again, sparing a brief thought for the way the brothers had practically bolted from the room at Thorin’s arrival. It seems like there might be something going on in the royal family but he won’t pry. 

Bilbo sets the spoon down in the cereal and wipes Frodo’s face with a soft cloth. “I want to thank you again for taking in Merry, Sam and Pippin. They’re thriving.”

Thorin nods as he cuts into a sausage. “Good. That was part of the reason I had for putting them with my most loyal and trustworthy supporters.”

With a frown Bilbo adjusts Frodo in his lap. There’s something in Thorin’s voice that reminds him of early in the journey, when Thorin thought he was going to be a dead weight and it makes him fidget. All of a sudden Fíli and Kíli’s flight makes sense and he wants to follow them. 

He pushes back from the table and stands, glad permission isn’t required to leave the table. “Have a pleasant day Thorin.”

Thorin smiles. “And you as well Bilbo.”

\-----

Balin gets to his feet at the pounding on the door. He knows who it is. Dwalin came to him yesterday and he’s surprised Thorin wasn’t close on his brother’s heels, demanding answers. He opens the door and Thorin comes in, looking sleek and put together but there are dark circles under his eyes and he’s angry.

Stepping back from the door Balin gestures for him to enter. “Thorin.”

Thorin waits until the door is closed before he rounds on Balin. “You know and you didn’t tell me.”

Balin makes his way back to the chairs by the fire and sits down. He’s served the royal family long enough that he isn’t intimidated by the dark look Thorin is leveling at him. “I did.”

“And you didn’t see fit to tell me, your king.”

Balin strokes his beard. “I had my reasons, as did Bilbo.” With his free hand he motions for Thorin to sit and is surprised when he does. “You’ll have to speak with Bilbo about the details, but I want you to know he struggled with leaving Erebor, knowing he was carrying your child. I spent many hours with him while he was making the decision and I know it hurt him to return to the Shire.”  
He didn’t give Thorin a chance to speak. “Bilbo is worldly, but you’re both working against the cultural norms of two different peoples. Perhaps before you let your anger at Bilbo get the best of you, talking might be a good idea.”

Thorin slumps back in the chair. “And you have nothing to say to defend your knowledge of this situation.”

Balin smiles. “I am your advisor in kingly matters, but now, we are friends and I am not going to share Bilbo’s secrets with you. For those answers you’ll have to speak with him.”

Thorin stares at the older Dwarf. Balin’s face is well known and he’s watched many of the lines and wrinkles develop as they’ve worked together to keep their people safe and together in Ered Luin and in the return to Erebor. Balin has been a constant in his life and he’s long valued of his opinion. And despite his anger, he knows Balin is right.

Standing Thorin raises his hand when Balin moves to stand. “You know you never have to stand in my presence when were alone. As always you’ve given me much to think about though I still seek answers for all the lies from various persons around me.”

Balin folds his hands across his stomach. “I think Thorin, you’ll have much more to think about after you speak to Bilbo. There is much between you that demands a resolution, for your relationship and for Frodo.”

Balin shakes his head as Thorin leaves the room. He has a feeling the talk between Bilbo and Thorin is going to be full of revelations for both of them.

\-----

Head tipped back Thorin looks up at the velvet dark sky and the stars. He’s sitting on the edge of a stone bed in the garden he gifted to Bilbo what seems like years ago. No one will look for him up here and he needs the silence. 

He’s still angry at Balin and Dwalin, as well as his nephews but he’s going to hear both sides before he lets his anger get the best of him.

Scrubbing a hand across his face Thorin makes a decision and stands to head back into the depths of Erebor.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended for the chapter to be longer, but with the amount of coursework I have, it seemed better to update something short. With that being said, it might be awhile before this gets updated again, but never fear, for it hasn't and won't be abandoned. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.
> 
> Enjoy!

Knocking on the door rouses Bilbo from his doze in front of the fire and he slowly gets to his feet. Frodo has long since fallen asleep, tucked in his cradle. He had wanted to sleep as well but Thorin’s actions earlier in the day and Fíli and Kíli’s quick disappearance when faced with their uncle, has been bothering him all day.

Bilbo yawns and opens the door and freezes. Thorin is standing in the hallway, broad shoulders set in a tight line, hand curled into a fist. It seems odd that Thorin is at his room so late and Bilbo straightens up because he has a feeling he knows the reason behind this visit.

He rakes his gaze over Bilbo, noting the slight upward tilt of Bilbo’s chin and the set of his face. It’s a familiar look, the one of a Hobbit who faced down a dragon with nothing but his wits and stealth. Bilbo won’t back down from him and that is one of the things that drew Thorin to him in the beginning. 

Thorin steps forward. He isn’t trying to intimidate Bilbo but he wants to be closer, to try and erase some of the distance that still lingers between them. 

“Is Frodo my son?”

Bilbo, pinned like a bug under the intensity of Thorin’s gaze nods. He knows he wouldn’t have been able to hide Frodo’s parentage forever, especially with the way all the rest of the company knows and the way Dís has been dropping hints every time Thorin has Frodo. The guilt of hiding the knowledge from Thorin will never fade and he deserves to have to live with it for the rest of his life. “He is.”

He isn’t sure what to expect but he’s always imagined Thorin exploding, raging and banishing him from Erebor, separating him from Frodo. What he’s never been expecting is Thorin to grab him and pull him in, catching his mouth in a bruising kiss, hands painfully tight on his arms.

Bilbo can’t help but respond, pushing closer until he can feel Thorin’s heartbeat, strong against his chest. He moans when the kiss gentles, Thorin pulling back. There’s still anger in the lines of Thorin’s face and Bilbo isn’t naïve enough to think the truth is going to remove the last few months of lying but he can almost let himself hope things might get better.

Scrubbing a hand across his face Thorin sighs. “What you do to me Bilbo Baggins.”

Thorin turns and strides from the room, leaving the door open and Bilbo doesn’t move, hands fisted against his thighs. He returns with Fíli in tow, the younger Dwarf looking sleepy and confused, eyes darting between them. “Fíli, take your cousin.”

Realization dawns and Fíli smiles and slips past Bilbo, carefully gathering up Frodo who sleeps through the entire transition. He makes sure to take up the small stuffed horse and tucks it among the blankets before leaving the room, glancing back at them as he does, a faint smile curling up the corner of his mouth.

Thorin doesn’t look away from Bilbo, can’t in case this entire conversation is just a figment of his imagination, a wild grasping of his mind for something he wishes was true. The silence spreads between them, broken only by the snapping of the logs in the fire. It’s overwhelming and Thorin swallows, finding his voice.

“Why did you leave?”

Bilbo would rather have another kiss than answer but he knows by the steely look in Thorin’s eyes, that nothing is going to happen until Thorin has an answer that satisfies him. And he seriously doubts his reason is going to be enough to even begin to repair the trust between them.

Needing a moment to gather his thoughts Bilbo smooths down the front of his waistcoat, fingers brushing against the gold buttons. Squaring his shoulders he meets Thorin’s gaze. He’s rehearsed the words in his head ever since he first left Erebor and he never thought he would actually ever say them to Thorin.

“Because you are King under the Mountain and need an heir, one without the stigma of being half hobbit, half dwarf. Because you fought so hard for this and I wouldn’t jeopardize it for you. You didn’t need to try and rebuild Erebor with Frodo and I casting a pall over everything.”

Thorin sighs before shaking his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Master Baggins, I believe you exist to try my patience. I have my heirs in Fíli and Kíli. They are young and with the peace we have, I have time to teach them what they need to know to rule when I pass, and second-” he cups Bilbo’s cheek, tough thumb dragging along his cheek. “We Dwarves only love once and if that is not returned we simply live our lives alone.”

“And as for the matter of Frodo being in the line of succession, you needn’t have worried about that. No one but a pure member of Durin’s folk may sit the throne in any of the Dwarven kingdoms. Frodo will never have to worry about the burden of kingship.” 

Those words ease some of the tightness in Bilbo’s chest and he dares a half step forward. “I think we should have talked much sooner.”

Thorin’s grin is wry and self-deprecating. “Something I’m sure Balin would take much pleasure in telling you I’m not very good at.”

Bilbo laughs, the sound light in the vast room. “I never would have guessed. Would you rest with me?” He shakes his head at the look his words bring to Thorin’s face. “I don’t want anything.” Shrugging slightly he holds his arms open in front of him. “I just don’t want to lose what we have right now.”

Thorin looks at Bilbo for a long moment before he removes his rings and sets them on the small table next to the chairs. He shrugs out of his coat and lays it over the back of the chair before working to take his boots off. Tucking his boots under the edge of a chair Thorin straightens up.

Bilbo dips his head in an abbreviated nod and turns to go into the bedroom. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears and he feels shaky as he listens to the quiet brush of Thorin’s feet on the floor behind him. Stopping at the foot of the bed Bilbo quickly unbuttons his waistcoat and takes it off. He folds it, setting it on the chest.

Climbing into the massive bed opposite the Dwarf Bilbo draws the soft sheet up to his chest. He curls on his side with his back to Thorin and closes his eyes. He just barely manages to suppress a shudder when he feels the bed dip under Thorin’s weight and even through the distance between them he can feel the heat radiating from Thorin.

It doesn’t take long for the stress of the last few minutes to fade away and Bilbo drifts to sleep.

\-----

Bilbo is still asleep when Thorin wakes and doesn’t move when he slips from the bed. Forgoing his boots Thorin leaves the room and quietly closes the door before padding to the dining hall. His family is already there, Fíli and Kíli are both grinning while Dís is holding Frodo, her lips curled in a pleased grin. 

“Are things better?”

Thorin looks at his nephews who look a little apprehensive beneath their smiles and Dís who is grinning at him over her chair. 

He moves to stand behind his sister, hands resting on the back of her chair. “They will be, with time and the truth.”

Frodo is asleep in Dís’ arms and Thorin feels a bolt of warmth settle in his chest. The sight of his sister and his child together had always been something he’d imagined but he set the thought aside when he’d known Bilbo was his One. But now, to know he has a child, and with the one he loves, his life couldn’t be any better.

He reaches over Dís shoulder to gently touch Frodo’s cheek. He has his family and he’ll do everything in his power to keep it. 

Ignoring his sister’s knowing look Thorin returns his room to take a quick bath and change his clothing. By the time he gets back to Bilbo’s room the Hobbit is also up and dressed, the curls around his face still damp. Not hesitating he crosses the room to stand in front of Bilbo and gets a thrill when the Hobbit tips his head back to meet his gaze, so trusting.  
“I would like to try this again. With nothing but the truth.”

Bilbo’s smile is brilliant and he reaches out to take Thorin’s hand. “I would like that.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a long time, but I finally have managed to finish an update!. Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.
> 
> Enjoy!

Thorin nods to one of his advisors as he makes his way towards the library. Today Dís has willingly taken on the role of Erebor’s ruler, for which Thorin is grateful. If it wasn’t for his sister, he doubts he would actually have any time to spend with Bilbo or do anything besides running Erebor. He’ll have to make something for her to show his deep appreciation for all the work she’s been doing.

The library is quiet and Thorin makes his way to the back of the room, taking in all the improvements and repairs Ori has undertaken since the reclamation. Ori has been working tirelessly to clean up the library and Thorin is impressed with the work.

Ori is bent over his desk on the dais and Thorin clears his throat as he climbs the stairs. Even now Ori is a little jumpy and he’s found it’s best to announce his presence.

Looking up Ori smiles and sets his pen down before bouncing to his feet. “Thorin! You should have told me you were coming and I would have been prepared.”

Thorin smiles. “I was actually here looking for Bilbo, but I have time if you would like to share your work with me.” He’ll never admit it but he has a soft spot for Ori, built on the months of the journey and his courage faced with the dangers. Ori has been bending his ears about his book since the end of the journey and Thorin always makes time to look at the tome whenever Ori asks him to.

“Actually, I was just working on it. I think the story is much better with what Bilbo has added.” Ori gestures at the book and Thorin moves closer to the desk. The ink on the page is still wet so he doesn’t touch it but a picture of Smaug spills across the pages, dozens of coins and gems piled around clawed feet.

“This is amazingly well done Ori. I feel I might be stifling your talent using you as simply my librarian. You could easily seek patronage from the noble families to serve as a scribe for them.”

Blushing, Ori shakes his head. “No. I like being here, helping keep the knowledge of our people alive.”

“And here you can stay, as long as you like.” With a last glance at the book Thorin looks at Ori. “Do you happen to know where Bilbo is?”

Ori straightens his pen. “He said he was going to the nursery to spend some time with the other Hobbits.”

Thorin inclines his head. “Thank you. Continue the good work.”

Leaving the library Thorin heads towards the nursery. It’s much higher in Erebor than most other rooms in the mountain and has a single narrow window. He and Dís were quick to have the room converted from a bedroom into something of a playroom/nursery for the young Hobbits when they weren’t with their foster families.

Even from the end of the short hallway Thorin can hear the rise and fall of Bilbo’s voice, though he can’t make out what the Hobbit is saying but he thinks it might be a story. He pauses just inside the room. Bilbo is sitting on a couch that’s angled away from the door. Frodo is in his lap, staring raptly up at him and the other three Hobbits are in baskets on the floor, warmly swaddled as they look at Bilbo. At the back of the room are two of the nursemaids he’d assigned to the Hobbits, both of them sitting on stools as they work on some sewing, listening to Bilbo as he talks about goblins.

One of the nursemaids sees him and rises to her feet, canting her head in an abbreviated bow. 

Bilbo turns on the chaise and smiles when he sees Thorin. “I was starting to think I wasn’t ever going to see you again.”

Thorin enters the room, watching as the two nursemaids disappear behind one of the tapestries decorating the wall. There’s a small hallway leading to a small room and Thorin knows the two will return should he or Bilbo desire anything.

Moving around the couch he sits next to the Hobbit, smiling when Frodo reaches for him. He holds up his hand, letting Frodo clutch at his fingers. “Unfortunately kingship is a time consuming job. The only reason I was able to escape is because Dís agreed to accept the burden today so I could have some time to myself. May I?”

Bilbo smiles as he hands Frodo over. “Of course. I was losing feeling to my arm.”

Settling Frodo in the crook of his arm Thorin brushes two of his fingers against the back of Bilbo’s hand. “You can continue your story. I’m interested in knowing how the peaceful Hobbits drove a horde of Goblins from the Shire.”

Blush staining his cheeks Bilbo glances at the three young Hobbits. “Growing up it was one of my favourite stories, since I always lusted for adventure. I thought they might enjoy hearing it too.”

Thorin relaxes back into the couch, Frodo a warm weight against his side as he listens to Bilbo. The Hobbit is an excellent storyteller, his voice rising and falling with the tale. He’s known of Hobbits his entire life but knows nothing of their history and it’s interesting to hear about the battles with the Goblins. It certainly does much to explain Bilbo’s courage though he isn’t a warrior by any stretch of the imagination.

It isn’t long before Sam, Merry and Pippin begin to fuss and the nursemaids return, scooping them up before bowing to Thorin and Bilbo and disappearing out the door.

Adjusting Frodo against his chest Thorin stands. Holding his hand out to Bilbo he smiles. “I think it might be time for lunch. No doubt if we sneak down to the kitchens Bombur will make sure we have peace and anything else we might desire.”

Bilbo returns his smile and reaches out to smooth Frodo’s dark curls down. “An excellent idea.”

Thorin leads him towards the roots of Erebor, though cleverly hidden doors into intricately carved tunnels with so many doors leading into darkness that remind Bilbo of the tunnels where he met Gollum. He picks up speed so he can stay close to Thorin, an uncomfortable shiver running down his back. 

The door Thorin opens is in the corner of the kitchens and Bilbo steps aside as the Dwarf closes it behind them. 

Bombur sees them and hurries over, a massive ladle in his hand. He smiles brightly and bows as far as his massive gut allows him. “Had I known you were coming I would have made up a plate of whatever goodies you desired.”

Thorin shakes his head as he hands a wiggling Frodo to Bilbo. “No need Bombur. This is an impromptu lunch and anything you have available is fine.”

“Of course. Go take a seat at the table in the corner and I’ll see about gettin’ you two some food and some porridge for the little one.”

The table in the corner is a small, square made of dark wood, the top covered with many scarred rings from generations worth of mugs. The stools are small but well-padded and covered with a soft, dark leather. Bilbo sits down with his back to the wall, Frodo held against his chest. Thorin sits across from him and their knees bump under the table. 

Bombur reappears what seems like seconds later, with food, soup sand bread and a few choice pieces of lamb as well as a bowl of porridge studded with soft apples. He smiles and reaches out to tousle Frodo’s curls. “Enjoy.”

Thorin moves to distribute the food and smiles. 

\-----  
Bilbo sits in the chair Thorin pulls out for him and smiles when Thorin takes his seat at the head of the table. The rest of the Company is already at the table, talking as a plate of bread is passed around. Only Dís is missing and Bilbo is sure she’ll be along soon. There hasn’t been a dinner yet where she hasn’t made an appearance.

Dís sweeps into the dining hall, her hair falling loose around the silver of her crown. She leans down to kiss Thorin’s cheek and then Frodo’s before moving to sit in the chair Fíli pulled out for her. “You owe me, brother mine, for sitting on the throne today. It was nothing but meetings with your councils.” She accepts the plate of food Kíli hands her. “I have settled the greybeards, but I’m sure you’ll hear from them tomorrow.”

“You have my thanks Dís.” Thorin passes Frodo to Bilbo as his son holds grasping hands out for his other parent. “I spent a much more pleasant day because of your willing sacrifice.”

Rolling her eyes Dís smiles and glances at Bilbo. “I’m starting to see that he won you over with his occasional charm. I just wish I could have warned you before you fell too far.”

Bilbo laughs and flicks his gaze to Thorin. “Don’t worry Dís. I found I’m rather fond of your brother.”

His words draw laughs from the rest of the Company and Thorin shakes his head, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. “Yes, you’ve all gotten a laugh at my expense. Eat.”

Dinner continues in the usual controlled chaos and Bilbo relaxes into his chair as Frodo chews on a piece of bread. Bofur is telling a story and Bilbo doesn’t know what it’s about as he’s paying more attention to the others’ reactions than the words. He still misses the Shire and knows he won’t ever get over it but it feels like Erebor is becoming more like home with every passing day. 

By the time dinner ends Frodo is mostly asleep in his arms and Bilbo is pleasantly full. He watches from half closed eyes as Dís and Thorin speak of the day, Fíli and Kíli leaning in to listen to them. The others are talking about their own day and all the voices blend into a soothing, if slightly disharmonious mess of sound. 

Nobody moves until well after the servants have removed the dishes. Bombur, Bifur and Bofur are the first to leave, waving and laughing. Ori, Nori and Dori are next, though Ori’s brothers have to drag him off when he stops to talk to Bilbo. Óin and Glóin bow out with Balin and Dwalin not far behind them.

Bilbo stands, Frodo making a small sound as he exits the dining hall with Thorin close behind him. He stops just outside the doorway in the hall, not quite sure he wants to go to his room yet, despite the lateness of the hour. 

Fíli and Kíli pass them by, smiling and nodding as they disappear into their respective rooms. Dís follows them out, stopping when Frodo reaches for her. She glances at Bilbo who nods before she takes him. “I’ll take Frodo and put him to bed so you two can continue to awkwardly dance around each other without any interruption.”

Thorin watches as Dís strides down the hallway and shakes his head. He loves his sister but some days she’s nothing but a menace. He looks at Bilbo, noting the faint blush on his cheeks and steps in, one hand coming up to brush along his cheek. “I feel I should apologize for my sister. She is occasionally too forward.”

Shaking his head Bilbo smiles. “No need. She has a very good point. We’ve done nothing but say hello in passing since we agreed to try and make this work.”

Hand cupping Bilbo’s cheek Thorin leans down to kiss him. “A matter I intended to fix starting tomorrow. I find it difficult to know I can touch but never having the opportunity to do so is irritating to say the least.” His free hand drops to rest of Bilbo’s hip, fingers curling around to press into his flesh.

He kisses Bilbo again before releasing him and stepping back. “I promise you’ll see me tomorrow.”

Bilbo nods, still a little lost at the sudden loss of Thorin’s bulk. He wants more but he knows the timing isn’t appropriate so he smiles. “Good night Thorin.”

Thorin makes a sound and surges forward to clutch Bilbo tight as he kisses him again. He draws back, until their lips are barely touching. “You are a menace Bilbo.”

Smiling Bilbo slowly backs away. “So I have been told. Good night.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no excuses for how long this took. On the upside however, I have finally managed to finish and this will be the second to last chapter, with the last one getting posted some time late next week.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos.
> 
> Enjoy.

With a yawn Bilbo rolls onto his back and stares up at the heavy canopy over his bed. Frodo is still asleep so he doesn’t move except to stretch. Yesterday still seems like a dream and he’s having a hard time believing he actually spent all day with Thorin. It was easily one of his best days since coming to Erebor and he can only hope it happens again, though he’s sure it’ll be awhile, given Thorin’s responsibilities for his people.

There’s a sound from the crib and Bilbo smiles wryly as he slides out of the bed. His moment of peace gone. He gathers Frodo up from the crib and kisses his cheek. “I think it’s time you got a bath.”

It doesn’t take long to get his son bathed and once Frodo is clean he dresses him and sets him back into the crib. He drains the water from the tub and refills it. The hot water feels amazing and he spends a long time in the tub, scrubbing his skin until it’s pink before washing his hair. He reluctantly drains the tub and wraps a thick robe around his shoulders.

Bilbo quickly dresses and scoops Frodo out of the crib. He kisses his son’s cheek, smiling when Frodo giggles and grabs at his hair. “Let us find some breakfast. Perhaps some more porridge.”

Dís is just exiting her room as he exits his and he smiles. “Good morning.”

She crosses the hallway, dressed down in a long white tunic with belled sleeves under a dark blue vest embroidered with silver swirls. Smiling she leans in to kiss his cheek and then pulls back to touch her nose to Frodo’s, smile widening when he giggles at her. She looks at Bilbo. “May I take him?”

Bilbo hands Frodo to Dís, fingers tickling over his son’s foot as he does so.

Bracing Frodo on her hip Dís smiles. “And now that I have him, you are free to do as you see fit.” She touches her cheek to Frodo’s and steps back. “Enjoy your day of freedom.”

With a bemused smile Bilbo watches as Dís moves down the hallway, Frodo laughing in her arms. Shaking his head Bilbo stops in the dining hall long enough to grab a sausage filled roll. He eats it as he makes his way towards the library, smiling and nodding at the Dwarves as he passes them. By now the residents of Erebor have gone back to treating him like he’s been here since the beginning and had nothing to do with retaking the mountain.

As always the library is quiet and Bilbo makes his way to the back, where Ori is sure to be working. Ori’s head Is bent low over his big desk, the quill moving across a piece of parchment. Bilbo waits until Ori has reached the end of the line before making a sound, scraping his foot across the floor.

The Dwarf startles and nearly takes out the inkwell at his elbow. With a yelp he moves the inkwell further away and sets the quill down. “Bilbo!”

Bilbo climbs the stairs up the dais. “Sorry, I was trying not to startle you.”

Ori shakes his head and grins. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t anything important I was working on. If had gotten ruined I would have just started over. Where’s Frodo?”

Smiling Bilbo moves to look at the book. “Dís apprehended him this morning. I have a royal decree to spend the day doing whatever I like.” He turns the page in the book. “This book looks more amazing every time I see it.”

Ori blushes. “Thank you. I’ve spent more time on it than I thought I would, but there are so many things to add. It helps that everyone is willing to add their perspectives.” He nervously glances at Bilbo. “I know today is supposed to be your day but I was wondering, since I have you here, if you would be willing to help me with this mess a little. There are scrolls and books I need to put back.”

Bilbo’s smile widens. “Of course. I wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t been prepared to help you. I know exactly how much work you have.”

With a grin Orin bounces on his toes. “Thank you. I’m really not sure how it got this bad.” He points to a teetering stack of books. “You can start there and we’ll go from there.”

Picking up the top few books on the stack Bilbo runs his hands over the soft leather of the covers. He descends into the shelving, eyes skimming over the brass plates on the dark wood. After this long in Erebor and working with Ori he’s picked up enough of Dwarven runes to be able to return the books and scrolls to their shelves with some amount of accuracy. “Why is there so much material out?”

Ori’s voice sounds from a few rows over. “Some of the older Dwarves have been up here and some of the younger ones who barely remember Erebor and were raised in Ered Luin have been looking at the material. And most of it is me. I’ve been looking for information about dragons and skin changers. I want to make sure the book of our journey is as complete as possible.”

Bilbo slides a book onto the shelf. “I’m glad the others have been taking advantage of all the work you’ve been doing. Keeping this much history is a great task.”

They fall into an easy silence, only broken when Bilbo can’t manage to decipher the runes, either because they’re nearly worn away or because he’s never seen it before. It’s nearly midday when Bilbo finally leaves the library. He and Ori had done a good job getting all of the material shelved though Bilbo is sure their work won’t last long. Several Dwarves had been entering the library as he’d been leaving, debating the proper way to smelt ore and the correct mixture and Bilbo is sure Ori is probably going to spend a good amount of time running around the library looking for the information. 

Bilbo is halfway down the hall when he sees a Dwarf wearing a familiar hat enter the hallway in front of him. “Bofur!”

The Dwarf turns and grins. “Hey Bilbo. I almost didn’t recognize you without Frodo. Where is the pebble?”

“Dís pulled the aunt card and relieved me of parenting for the day. Though I find I’m at odds with what to do with myself. Everything has been about Frodo for so long I don’t seem to know what to do without him.” Bilbo grins. “Though I did get to spend some time with Ori in the library, so it wasn’t a total loss.”

Bofur slings his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and pulls him down the hallway. “Then you can come eat lunch with me an Bombur and Bifur. I promise we’ll make sure you have fun.”

Shaking his head Bilbo allows Bofur to lead him down through tunnels until they exit into the kitchen. Bifur is already there and staring woefully at the food piled before him. Bofur shuffles him into the seat in the corner before taking the other stool. Bombur arrives with a last plate of food and sits next to Bifur. 

The food is delicious and Bofur keeps his promise, telling stories, about when he, his brother and cousin were growing up, from their time in Erebor as well as in Ered Luin. Bilbo spends much of the lunch trying to avoid choking on his food as Bofur seems to have the uncanny knack of getting to the funny part right as he’s trying to swallow his food.

Bofur throws down his fork and sighs. “Well lads, it’s been fun, but I know I’ve got work to gettin’ back to, as do the two of you.” He looks at Bilbo. “Sorry we can’t keep you company anymore.”

“It’s okay Bofur. This certainly was better than wandering through Erebor all day, which was probably what I was destined for.” He nods to Bombur and Bifur. “Thank you for letting me intrude on your lunch.”

Bombur waves a sausage he isn’t quite done with. “Nothin’ to worry about. You might as well be family. You okay to make your way up alone?”

“I’ll be fine Bofur. I can always ask for directions.” Bilbo leaves the kitchen, making his way through familiar hallways as he ascends Erebor. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do and he’s grateful for Dís taking Frodo. He loves his son with all this heart but there are still some days it’s overwhelming to be the only one seeing to all of Frodo’s needs.

He’s nearly to the royal wing when Thorin appears. The Dwarf if bare of any royal regalia and is dressed in a dark blue tunic with silver thread embroidery at the neck and cuffs. He has a long, narrow box under his arm and Bilbo’s curiosity is piqued. “Good afternoon Thorin.”

Thorin smiles. “A better afternoon now.” 

Before Bilbo can respond Thorin takes a step forward, in to his space, and leans down to kiss Bilbo, one hand dropping to rest on Bilbo’s hip. Bilbo presses into the kiss, hand splaying across Thorin’s chest. He’s been thinking about this since the night before, the way Thorin had pressed him to the wall, the strong hand on his hip that had squeezed as though trying to imprint on his skin.

Pulling back Thorin holds the box out and opens the lid to reveal two beautifully carved long stemmed pipes, as well as a small pouch of pipe weed and a small box of matches. “I thought we might go up to the garden and enjoy the fine afternoon.”

Bilbo smiles, hand resting on Thorin’s arm. “Won’t your advisors miss you?”

Thorin shakes his head as he guides Bilbo around and up a hallway with a gradual incline. “My advisors and I took care of all business this morning. They’re under strict orders not to bother Dís or I unless there is an emergency, and something we would consider an emergency, not a minor disagreement.”

“How did that go over?” Bilbo notices the way Thorin is careful to keep his stride short so he doesn’t have to hurry to keep up. He grins, bowing his head so Thorin can’t see. 

Thorin glances at Bilbo, a hint of a smile pulling at his mouth. “Surprisingly well. We have had very few breaks since we came to Erebor and i think they were silently overjoyed to be given time off. Some of them have business they oversee as well as serving as my advisors.”

Reaching the top of the ramp Thorin pushes the door open and Bilbo blinks against the sudden burst of light.

The late spring sun is slanting across the ledge containing the garden and the light breeze is pleasantly warm. They sit on the edge of one of the bigger beds and Thorin sets the box at his feet. He removes both pipes and packs them with weed before handing one to Bilbo. Removing the matches Thorin lights a match and sets it to the bowl of Bilbo’s pipe. 

The pipe weed catches and Bilbo draws, causing the weed to flare before it settles. He watches as Thorin lights his own pipe before dripping the matches to the box. Smoke curls up from the pipe, unfamiliar in scent but comforting and Bilbo leans back on the stone ledge, looking up.

The sky is a crisp blue, with no clouds in sight. An occasionally raven shows as a dark blot on the sky, their calls echoing down through the stone. They sit for a long time in silence, quietly smoking. This is the first time he’s smoked since he realized he was pregnant with Frodo and he’s missed the quiet serenity of it, the comforting curl of smoke. 

It’s even better with Thorin next to him, their arms brushing with every movement. Bilbo loses track of how long he and Thorin sit, smoking quietly, rarely speaking. 

The sky is smudged with darkness when Thorin speaks, his voice low. “Would you dine with me?”

Bilbo pauses in cleaning out his pipe and looks up at Thorin. The Dwarf is watching him with serious eyes, fingers stroking over the bowl of the pipe in an oddly nervous tick. 

Sitting up Bilbo cradles the pipe in his hands. “Of course.” He smiles. “It’ll even be quiet, since your sister has taken Frodo from me for the day.” 

Bilbo carefully sets the pipe down on the ledge next to him and stands. He moves to stand between Thorin’s legs, resting hands on his shoulders. “Something I think you had something to do with.”

Thorin smiles, one hand coming up to rest on the small of Bilbo’s back. “My sister is headstrong and I can’t say I’m responsible for her taking our son for the day.”

It sends a shiver of pleasure down Bilbo’s back to hear Thorin refer to Frodo as theirs and Bilbo curls his fingers into the thick muscle of Thorin’s shoulders. He leans down. “I find I don’t believe you but I find I don’t care much.”

Thorin carefully repacks the pipes and nudges Bilbo back. He stands and kisses Bilbo. “Let us go inside.”

They make their way back down, into the depths of Erebor and Bilbo finds that he’s leaning closer to Thorin, drawn to his warmth. As much as he loves the Shire Bilbo knows he was a fool to think he could ever truly be happy there, not after everything that happened, even with Frodo to remind him of what he and Thorin had. The Shire was nice but he wasn’t very close to anyone at home, not when his new family was so far away.

Without really thinking Bilbo stopped and stepped into Thorin, pushing him back towards the wall of the tunnel. Feeling a little nervous at the way Thorin was looking at him Bilbo licks his lips before stretching up to kiss Thorin. A rough hand cups his face, thumb stroking his face and Bilbo leans into the kiss, hands curled into loose fists. It takes all of his willpower to pull away and he doesn’t want to but a hallway is no place for this kind of behaviour. He looks at Thorin and shivers at the heat in his eyes. 

The rest of the trip to the royal wing is made in silence, save for the sound of Thorin’s boots on the stone. Bilbo can’t help but glance at Thorin, heat spreading through his body. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he’d been smitten with the Thorin the moment he’d seen the Dwarf on his doorstep. That had been part of the reason he’d decided in the pale light of the morning, to attempt to return Erebor to Thorin and his people.

They enter the royal hall and Thorin inclines his head to the guards before they ascend the short flight of stairs to the hall proper. Bilbo stops just outside his door. “Would you mind if I took a few moments to change?”

Thorin kisses Bilbo. “Of course. It will give me a chance to have Bombur send dinner up for us.”

Stepping into his room Bilbo heads to the bedroom. He shucks his waistcoat and shirt, tossing them towards the laundry. Opening the wardrobe, he withdraws a clean, soft shirt and pulls it on. He finds a waistcoat, dark blue with large silver buttons and silver embroidery along the hem and the lapels. Shrugging the waistcoat on he quickly slips the buttons through the holes before smoothing it down.

He runs a hand through his curls and leaves the room, his feet carrying him towards the end of the hall, his heartbeat loud in his ears. 

With a deep breath Bilbo pushes open the door to Thorin’s room. The first room is massive, a fireplace making up much of one wall. There are chairs and a small table in front of the fire, on top of several large bear pelts. A door stood open on the wall opposite the fireplace and Bilbo could just make out the corner of a bed, pelts and blankets hanging off the edge. Near the bedroom there’s a small table set against the wall, with two chairs. A silver candlestick sits in the middle of the table, casting light on the silver domes on the table.

Thorin comes out of his bedroom and smiles when he sees Bilbo. He crosses the room in long strides and leans down to kiss Bilbo, hand settling on his hip.

He draws back with a lingering kiss and gestures to the corner. “We’re having the same thing Bombur is serving the others, but I’m sure it will be more enjoyable without having to watch my nephews throw food to the others.”

Bilbo laughs and lets Thorin guide him towards the table with a gentle hand on his lower back. There’s a leg of lamb as well as a dish of roasted root vegetables. The rolls are a delicate brown in colour, filling the room with the smell of fresh baked bread and there is a small crock of fresh butter, a delicate yellow in colour, next to them. There’s an ewer of water as well as a pitcher of a golden brown ale. 

Taking a seat at the table this pass the platters back and forth. As they eat they exchange stories about their pasts and it falls into easy conversation from there, about anything that comes to mind. There’s even dessert, slices of a fruit tart, made of strawberry and tart raspberries, along with dollops of fresh cream. 

Once they’ve finished eating they move to sit in the two well stuffed chairs near the fireplace. Bilbo accepts the pipe Thorin hands him, watching as Thorin lights the pipe with quick, easy movements. He settles back in the chair, feet stretched out towards the fire. 

Time seems to slow as they smoke in silence, the smell of pipe weed heavy in the air between them.

Gentle hands reach over to take the pipe and Bilbo allows it, feeling loose and warm. He watches, feeling slight detached as Thorin cleans out both pipes before setting them aside. Thorin leans over and Bilbo stretches to meet him in a bare brush of a kiss. Bilbo slips from his chair and takes a partial step forward only to find Thorin stepping into him, hands falling to rest on his hips.

The trip to the bedroom is mostly a blur, though Bilbo is aware of the hot brand of Thorin’s hands against his body, even through the layers of his shirt and waistcoat. With a lingering kiss Thorin draws back, his hands going to the neat line of buttons down the front of the waistcoat.

Bilbo watches as Thorin works the buttons of his waistcoat through their holes, fingers surprisingly deft with the small buttons. Broad hands push the waistcoat from his shoulders and Bilbo gasps when Thorin nips at the line of his jaw. “At least we have a bed this time.” Thorin shoves the straps of the suspenders off his shoulders before kissing him again.

Huffing out a laugh Bilbo glances at the bed in question. The end of the bed is heaped with furs and several soft looking blankets and clean, white sheets are folded back to reveal a number of large down stuffed pillows. He steps back from Thorin and manages to get onto the bed, though he’s sure it isn’t as dignified as it could be. Turning he watches as Thorin removes his boots and gets a small crock of something from the bedside table before joining him in the bed, gently pushing Bilbo back into the mattress.

Thorin presses his lips to the line of Bilbo’s jaw, one hand resting on Bilbo’s stomach, thumb moving in a circle against the fine fabric of the shirt. “Do we need to worry about…”

Bilbo shakes his head. “No. The midwife said it was a miracle I had conceived the first time.”

Hands sliding under Bilbo’s shirt Thorin guides it up over Bilbo’s head and tosses it to the floor, followed quickly by his own. He eases Bilbo back into the bedding, fingers gliding along the edge of his pants. Glancing up at Bilbo he slides his hand to the buttons of his fly and quickly undoes them. Bilbo raises his hips and helps Thorin shove down his pants and smalls.

Feeling bold Bilbo kisses Thorin even as he slides his hands down the firm plane of Thorin’s abdomen to the waistband of his pants. He glides his fingers along the skin above Thorin’s pants, smiling when he feels the muscle of Thorin’s stomach jump against his touch. Moving his fingers lower he drags them along the ridge of Thorin’s cock. 

Thorin dips his head to nip at Bilbo’s mouth. “You are a menace Bilbo.”

Grinning Bilbo twists his hands so he can cup Thorin’s length. “So you’ve said before. Is that really so bad, when I’m trying to hurry this along, so we can enjoy having a bed for the first time.”

With a laugh Thorin sits back and skims out of his pants, tossing them to the floor before he moves to lean next to Bilbo in the bed. 

He urges Bilbo to roll into him and pulls his leg up to rest over his thigh. Dipping his fingers in oil he rubs them across Bilbo’s entrance, smiling when a gasp escapes his lover. He bows his head to kiss Bilbo, swallowing his gasps as he continues to stroke his fingers across the furl of muscle until the small body is shuddering against him. Thorin coats his fingers again and carefully breaches Bilbo with one, stroking in and out for long moments before adding a second finger. It doesn’t take long before Bilbo is rocking against his fingers, breath coming in little gasps.

He continues to work Bilbo open, thrusting and twisting as he does, fingers brushing against the spongy spot inside his lover. Once he’s worked three fingers deep into Bilbo he thinks he’s ready and he stills his fingers though he continues to kiss Bilbo, swallowing his sounds of pleasure.

Kissing Bilbo one last time Thorin withdraws his fingers and rolls Bilbo into the bed, settling between his spread legs. He drags his mouth up the line of Bilbo’s jaw before pressing his mouth to the skin under his ear. “Okay?”

Bilbo nods, hands curling into Thorin’s shoulders. “Very good.” He gives a cheeky grin. “I could be better.”

Shaking his head Thorin reaches for the oil again. He draws a slick line from the base of Bilbo’s cock down, to brush a last touch across his soft entrance. Dipping his fingers again Thorin slicks his cock before pressing into Bilbo. There’s a moment of resistance and then Bilbo takes a deep breath, relaxing and Thorin slides home with a bitten off groan. 

Fingers curl into his shoulders and Bilbo sighs against his neck. “I missed you terribly.”

Thorin presses a kiss to the corner of Bilbo’s mouth. “Dís has informed me I was unbearable until you and Frodo arrived.” 

Pulling back, he thrusts into Bilbo, swallowing his lover’s gasp. He settles into an easy rhythm, Bilbo’s hips rolling up to meet his thrusts. Working a hand between them he curls his fingers around Bilbo’s cock, working it in time to his thrusts, thumb sliding over the head with each stroke. Bilbo keens at the touch, fingers biting into Thorin’s shoulders as he gasps. 

Bilbo comes with a gasp and Thorin strokes him through it, thumb rubbing at the underside of the head. He drops his hand to Bilbo’s hip when he’s wrung him through his climax and deepens his thrusts. It doesn’t take long until the heat coiling in the pit of his stomach erupts and he spills into Bilbo, hands clenching tight on the Hobbit’s hips. 

Thorin smiles at Bilbo’s mumble of protest as he shifts away. Moving away from grasping hands he pads to the bathing room and dampens a cloth in hot water. By the time he gets back to the bed Bilbo is almost asleep, barely having moved. Climbing back onto the bed Thorin cleans Bilbo, before swiping halfheartedly at his own stomach and dropping the cloth to the floor. 

Reaching down to the foot of the bed Thorin draws a blanket up to cover them. He catches Bilbo’s shoulders and tugs until the Hobbit is settled against him, head on his shoulder. Thorin cards his fingers thorough Bilbo’s damp curls, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

Bilbo gives a pleased hum before settling closer to Thorin. 

\-----

Thorin wakes with a low groan and presses a kiss to the slope of Bilbo’s shoulder. The Hobbit it still asleep, the blankets drawn up high. He grins as he presses another kiss to pale skin. He’d much rather remain in the bed with Bilbo but nature calls and he wants to get some kind of breakfast for them. He isn’t quite willing to give up the time they’ve had. 

With a groan Thorin rolls from the bed and moves to the bathing room. Coming back out he casts a glance at the bed where Bilbo hasn’t even moved. He draws pants and a tunic on, eschewing boots and makes his way to the dining hall. It’s empty save Dís and she has Frodo cradled in her arms, Frodo sucking tiredly at a bottle. 

Dís smiles knowingly. “Did you have a good night, brother mine?”

Shaking his head Thorin moves to the table and picks up a small plate. “The look of smug knowing is not a good one on you.”

Smile widening Dís adjusts Frodo more comfortably against her chest. “I am not smug. I was simply tired of watching you and Bilbo dance around each other like awkward younglings. I have enough of that with Fíli and Kíli.”

Setting several rolls and chunks of hard cheese on the plate Thorin shakes his head. “Wait until those two begin actively courting someone and then imagine what we’ll have to deal with it.”

“Don’t remind me.” Dís makes a shooing motion. “Go. I’m sure your Chosen is awake and wondering where you have gotten off to.” 

Thorin rounds the table to kiss Dís’ forehead and Frodo’s cheek before leaving the dining hall, the plate in hand.

By the time he gets back to the room Bilbo is awake. Setting the plate down on the table next to the bed Thorin climbs in and leans over to kiss him. The curls around his lover’s face are damp and his cheeks are flushed. He’s bare save the sheets and Thorin would love to pull the sheet down and continue last night but he and Bilbo have some things they need to talk about. 

Thumb stroking over Bilbo’s cheek Thorin leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I would like to announce your position as Royal Consort and that Frodo is a prince of the blood.” He smiles at the flabbergasted look on Bilbo’s face. “Don’t worry. Your position as consort is merely ceremonial, unless of course, you would like to be move involved. I’m sure Dís would be willing to teach you what you need to know.”

Shaking his head Bilbo laughs. “No, I think I’ll simply take the title. I think it best Erebor remain in the hands of the King, princess and princes. I don’t know enough about the Dwarven culture to make good decisions.”

Thorin kisses Bilbo again. “I don’t know. I think your concept of meals throughout the day might go over well here.”

Bilbo grins. “As much as I would love to share that idea, I don’t want to be responsible for anyone being eaten out of house and home.” His grin widens. “Though I believe I’m still owed for when I first met you.”

“Look at it from the view that they were helping you clean out the pantry in preparation for our journey.” Thorin reaches over to grab the plate and hands it to Bilbo. “Blaming me for what happened to your pantry is hardly fair. By the time I arrived all I had was soup and the end of a loaf of bread.”

Plate balanced on his sheet covered knees Bilbo shakes his head. “That is a matter you should take up with your nephews. They were in the thick of passing my food around to the others.”

Thorin leans back against the headboard and accepts a roll and cheese from Bilbo. He partially splits the roll and places the cheese between the halves. “Fíli and Kíli are both food motivated. It made getting them to sit still for lessons when they were younger much easier.”

“You make it sound like you were training hunting hounds.” Bilbo laughs.

Thorin smiles. “I might as well have. The hounds had a tendency to listen better than my nephews at times.”

Once the plate is empty Thorin takes it and sets it back on the table. He brushes his fingers across Bilbo’s cheek before leaning in to kiss him.

Bilbo smiles as he draws back. “As much as I would like to continue last night, we should probably make an appearance.”

“The voice of wisdom, as always.” Thorin steals another kiss before sliding off the bed. Bilbo follows him and he has to smile as the Hobbit drags the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around his body. “Avail yourself to my bathing room.”

Bilbo watches Thorin leave and he smiles as he makes his way towards the room.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we've reached the end of this. Massive thanks to everyone who has read, commented, left kudos and in general stuck it out until the end. I never intended for this to take so long to finish but I value every sign people enjoyed reading this and rest assured this won't be the last thing I post.
> 
> Thanks again for everyone who has taken the time to read this.
> 
> Enjoy.

With Frodo on his hip Bilbo slips out of Thorin’s rooms. He hasn’t moved in with Thorin, though some of his clothes have taken up residence in the vast wardrobe that dominates a corner of Thorin’s room. One of the extra rooms in the royal suite has been turned into a second nursery, with a crib for the nights, which are rare, when Dís doesn’t take him for the night. He’s been spending so much time in Thorin’s rooms he feels guilty about the fact the servants are still cleaning his room when he’s barely in it but he doesn’t want to feel like he’s crowding Thorin. 

When he gets to the dining room Thorin is the only one there, a small crock of oatmeal in the middle of the table, along with a plate of rolls and a small stack of bowls. 

Thorin smiles at him and stands to begin filling a bowl. “I apologize that you woke up alone. There was a matter with one of the forges my Master Smiths insisted I had to deal with.”

Bilbo takes the chair at Thorin’s right. “I didn’t even know you were gone until I woke up.” He smiles when Thorin sets the bowl in front of him and leans down to kiss Frodo’s cheek. “And what Erebor needs is far more important than worrying about me waking up in the bed alone.”

It’s just the three of them for a long time, Bilbo sharing his oatmeal with Frodo, when the little monster actually wants to eat something and stops making grabby hands at Thorin. The quiet is nice, though it makes the hall seem empty. A few minutes later Fíli and Kíli come into the room, talking in whispers. The moment they see Thorin and Bilbo their conversation comes to a stop and they take seats across from Bilbo before dishing up their breakfasts.

Fíli and Kíli keep exchanging looks before looking at him and Bilbo shakes his head. “Is there something you wanted to ask?”

The brothers freeze, with a last guilty look at each other. Fíli sits up. “We were wondering if we could take Frodo outside and wander around the mountain.”

Bilbo glances at Thorin. He trusts Fíli and Kíli with his life and that of his son but he has no idea of the situation around the mountain. While he’s sure the Dwarves have been vigilant there are a lot of places around Erebor where unsavory creatures might lurk and he doesn’t want anything to happen to anyone.

Thorin fixes his nephews with a look. “After the war we hunted down all the remaining orcs with Dain and Thranduil’s help. The area around the mountain is safe, though they will take four guards with them, to assure nothing untoward happens.” 

Fíli and Kíli look crestfallen at Thorin’s words but they both nod. They know Thorin’s word is law, especially when it comes to Frodo’s safety. Kíli stands. “I’m going to go get the lunch Bombur promised he’d pack for us.” Grinning he disappears down the back stairs.

Fíli stands. “I have a few other things to get.”

Grinning Bilbo holds Frodo up. “You should take Frodo with you and stop by our room to make sure you have supplies for him.”

Fíli pulls a face before smiling. He rounds the table and takes Frodo, settling him easily on his hip before leaving the leaving the room.

Thorin leans back in his chair. “Well, know that we’ve done away with the younglings what shall we do for the day?” 

  
\-----  


Bilbo shakes his head as he and Thorin exit the market section of Erebor. They’ve spent most of the morning there, after Fíli, Kíli and Frodo, followed by their guard, left Erebor after breakfast. He and Thorin have been making their way through the market, stopping to speak to all the vendors and admiring the vast array of goods available for purchase.

“Do you know everyone in Erebor?”

Thorin smiles as they make their way down towards the gates. “No. I know all of the noble families and those of my advisors. I also know my master smiths and many of the smiths who work under them.” They stop on one of the wide landings that overlooks the entrance hall. “I do try to make it a point to visit the market weekly and speak to the vendors and learn about them and their families. I do much the same with all the other people in the various parts of Erebor.” He looks at Frodo. “There are times I think not knowing the people was part of my grandfather’s problem. He so distanced himself from the people who really mattered that his treasure, and the Arkenstone became more important.”

“When that happened, I promised myself I would never let that happen. That after everything, my people deserved a king who put them first.” Thorin sighs and gestures for Bilbo to proceed him towards the stairs. “No more of that. I’d much rather we didn’t ruin our fine day talking about the dark past.”

Bilbo stops at the top of the stairs and turns to face Thorin. There isn’t anyone in sight and he leans up to kiss Thorin.“I agree, but without Smaug none of this would have ever happened.”

Shaking his head Thorin presses a kiss to the corner of Bilbo’s mouth. “You make a very good point. Come, let us continue down.”

Dís meets them near the bottom of the stairs. She smiles and kisses Bilbo’s cheek before linking her arm with Thorin. “I find this quite refreshing, not having to worry about my boys ducking out of a lesson with Dwalin or hearing about what kind of trouble they’ve gotten into.”

They’re standing just inside the gates of Erebor when pandemonium breaks out. The crowds separate and a Dwarf stumbles towards them. He’s dirty and holding his arm, dry blood dark on his hand. He comes to a stop in front of them and sways forward. 

Thorin catches him, eyes sweeping over him. “What happened?”

The Dwarf blinks hard, his face pale above his beard. “We were attacked by Orcs. A band came out of nowhere and overwhelmed us. They killed the other guards. I went down and watched as they carried the princes off, all three of them. I waited until they were gone and came back here as soon as I could.” He goes to his knees despite the grip Thorin has on him. “I tried Your Majesty.”

Thorin rests his hands on the other Dwarf’s shoulders. “I know.” He looks to where the crowd is gathered and motions for two Dwarves to come forward. “Take him up to the infirmary.”

The two Dwarves grab their fellow under the arms and head towards the infirmary, the crowd parting to allow them through.

Thorin spins to Dwalin, who had been in the crowd when the guard had stumbled in. “Get a squad together and meet me at the gates.” He looks at Dís. “The mountain is yours.”

Bilbo moves to follow Thorin but the Dwarf turns and gently catches his shoulder and pushes him back towards Dís.

With a frown Thorin shakes his head. “I need you to stay here Bilbo. We have to move fast and while I know your courage, I can’t be worrying about your safety while I worry about Frodo. Please Bilbo, for me.”

Bilbo’s hand automatically goes to his vest, where the ring is tucked safely in his pocket. It would be so easy to slip it on and follow Thorin but he meets Thorin’s earnest gaze. He nods, raising one hand to rest on Thorin’s chest. “I promise. I’ll stay here. Bring them back.”

Thorin nods and leans down to press a brief kiss to Bilbo’s mouth. “I will.”

Dwalin returns, with twenty heavily armed Dwarves behind him. He has his axes strapped across his back and he holds Orcrist out to Thorin. “We better get goin’.”

Hand closing around Orcrist’s scabbard Thorin nods. He looks at Dís and Bilbo. “I swear on Durin, I’ll bring them home, alive.”

Hands curled into fists Bilbo watches as Thorin leads Dwalin and the other Dwarves out of Erebor’s front gates. He’s barely aware of the way Dís sidles up to him, an arm going around his waist. It takes him a moment to move and put her arm around her shoulders. She has just as much to lose as he does.

Dís stays by his side, for which Bilbo is grateful. The urge to slip on his ring and disappear, to slip through the gates to go after Thorin and the others is overwhelming but he knows he’d only be in the way, even if he managed to find them. So instead he clings to Dís, emotionally if not physically because that’s his family out there, not just his lover and son, but Fíli and Kíli, the people he’s come to love as his own and the thought of losing anyone of them is more than he can take.

The hours drag on and the sun continues it’s slow trek across the sky, and Bilbo feels his anxiety ratchet higher. By now there should have been some sign of Thorin and the others and he can’t help but assume the worst.

A horn blows and Bilbo stands on his toes to stare over the parapet. He’s been in Erebor long enough to have memorized the various horn signals and this particular one means the return of friends. He dashes down the stairs with Dís close behind him and by the time they reach the bottom the gates stand open.

Slipping through the partially open gate Bilbo dashes down the road towards the approaching party. Thorin is at the front with half his face covered in blood, Orcrist across his back, and Frodo balanced on his hip. Fíli and Kíli are behind him, both looking a little battered but he can’t see any serious wounds. Dwalin is behind them and the other twenty Dwarves follow in tight formation, carrying the bodies of their fallen kin. 

Dís races past him and shoves past Thorin to get to Fíli and Kíli. She drags them both close, hugging them both before pushing them back to look at their faces. Shaking her head she kisses them both before looking at Dwalin and smiling. 

The moment he reaches them he takes Frodo from Thorin and kisses his son’s chubby, dirty tear stained cheek. “Thank you.”

Thorin nods as he reaches up with one hand to gently touch Bilbo’s cheek. “You never have to thank me. I would give anything to keep our son unharmed.” 

Holding Frodo close he rests his cheek on Thorin’s shoulder, heedless of the blood staining his coat. He was a fool to think he would be happy in the Shire, without Thorin and the others. Someday he’ll take Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin home to the Shire, to see the friends and family who survived, so they can all know both sides of his heritage. 

And while he’ll always hold Bag End and the Shire in his heart, Erebor has become his home and the ragtag band of Dwarves is his family.


End file.
